Oai, 


Wit  and  Humor  of 
American    Politics 


A  COLLECTION  FROM  VARIOUS  SOURCES 

CLASSIFIED    UNDER 
APPROPRIATE  SUBJECT  HEADINGS 


PHILADELPHIA 

GEORGE  W.  JACOBS  &  CO 

PUBLISHERS 


Copyright,  1903, 
By  GEORGE  W.  JACOBS  &  Co. 
Published,  September, 


Preface 

THE  game  of  politics,  as  played  the  world  over, 
has  a  perennial  and  absorbing  interest  every- 
where; but  especially  in  these  United  States, 
where  the  humblest  citizen  is  more  or  less  in 
touch  with  public  affairs,  does  this  interest  cul- 
minate. To  some  men,  the  great  game  is  meat 
and  drink,  house  and  home, — nay,  life  itself. 
Others  have  bartered  name  and  fame  of  a  cer- 
tain sort  for  the  sometimes  doubtful  pleasure  of 
swaying  conventions  or  caucuses.  To  men  of 
humbler  mold,  to  be  a  power  in  ward  or  in  pre- 
cinct is  sufficient  reward  for  any  amount  of  self- 
sacrifice.  Yet  others  find  the  political  arena  the 
avenue  to  wealth. 

All  of  these  things  are  possible  to  the  Ameri- 
can citizen.  More  than  in  any  other  country 
does  the  whirligig  of  city,  state,  and  national 
politics  enter  into  and  influence  the  daily  life  of 
our  people.  The  displacing  of  a  fourth-class 
postmaster  in  some  backwoods  township  may 
have  results  as  lasting  and  as  far-reaching  in 
their  way  as  the  ousting  of  a  member  of  the 
president's  cabinet. 

3       . 

1510650 


4  Preface 

No  wonder,  then,  that  there  is  read  with 
avidity  anything  and  everything  relating  to  our 
political  life.  Stories  of  our  public  men  go  to 
make  up  a  large  part  of  our  daily  and  weekly 
history.  More  than  once,  a  happy  story  or  a 
personal  hit  has  changed  the  course  of  events. 
And  no  small  part  of  our  legislation  is  shaped 
on  the  stump  or  in  the  witty  foregatherings  of 
the  lobby  or  the  committee-room. 

Therefore,  these  things  being  so,  the  compiler 
of  the  present  volume  has  no  apology  to  make, 
believing  that  any  collection  chronicling  the 
sayings  and  doings  on  the  witty  and  the  sunny 
side  of  politics,  will  at  least  serve  to  while  away 
an  hour  that  might  otherwise  be  vacant  or 
lonely. 

It  only  remains  to  be  said  that  the  book  is 
necessarily  a  compilation.  Some  of  the  matter 
has  been  culled  at  first  hand;  the  daily  and 
weekly  press  has  furnished  its  quota;  various 
repositories  of  political  anecdote  and  reminis- 
cence have  been  laid  under  contribution;  but 
in  many  instances  it  has  been  impossible  to 
verify  the  original  source  of  publication.  To  all 
these  known  and  unknown  contributors  to  the 
gayety  of  what  would  otherwise  be  a  rather 
humdrum  public  life  most  cordial  acknowledg- 
ments are  here  made. 


Contents 

CHAP.  PAGE 

I.  CHIPS  FROM  THE  STUMP          ...  J 

II.  NEW  STORIES  ABOUT  LINCOLN  .     .  48 

III.  DANIEL  WEBSTER  AT  HOME      .     .  58 

IV.  LESSONS  IN  POLITICS 68 

V.  THREE  POLITICAL  EPISODES       .     .  74 

VI.  HAND-SHAKING  AS  A  FINE  ART       .  80 

VII.     MIXED  METAPHORS 86 

VIII.  "  TEDDY  "  AS  A  HUMORIST       .     .  90 

IX.  THE  TRIALS  OF  POLITICAL  LIFE     .  95 

X.  THREE  INAUGURATIONS  ....  99 

XI.     THREE  OF  A  KIND 104 

XII.  REWARDS  OF  POLITICAL  SERVICE     .  no 

XIII.  THE  WONDERS  OF  TUPELO  .     .     .  122 

XIV.  "  THE  FOURTH  ESTATE  "     .     .     .  129 
XV.      THE  LADIES         133 

XVI.     POLITICAL  RETORTS 145 

XVII.  SOME  PERSONAL  "  APPRECIATIONS  "  157 

XVIII.  WHAT'S  IN  A  NAME?      ....  169 

XIX.  STORIES    OF    ELAINE,    McKiNLEY, 

AND  INGALLS 173 

XX.  CRANKS  AT  THE  WHITE  HOUSE       .  181 

XXI.  THE  GAME  OF  POLITICS  IN  KANSAS  193 

XXII.     "OLEO"         204 

XXIII.  FROM  THE  SOUTH 208 

XXIV.  REWARDS  OF  POLITICS     .     .     .     .  213 

5 


Wit  and  Humor  of  American 
Politics 

CHAPTER  I 

Chips  From  the  Stump 

Campaigning  in  the  Mountains  of  Kentucky 

NOTHING  affords  a  better  opportunity  for  get- 
ting acquainted  with  the  shy,  reticent  inhabit- 
ants of  the  Kentucky  mountains  than  political 
campaigning,  especially  if  that  campaigning  be 
local,  involving  county  and  district  offices. 
The  facts  that  the  mountain  counties  are  very 
thinly  populated  and  that  candidates  are  num- 
erous, render  the  importance  of  the  individual 
voter  very  great.  Candidates  have  to  do  much 
running  about.  Your  mountaineer  is  "  Your 
Highness  "  when  it  comes  to  his  vote.  He  does 
not  promise  it  lightly,  and  does  not  give  it 
lightly  at  the  polls.  The  solid  citizen  of  the 
mountains  looks  at  all  sides  of  a  question  before 
he  makes  up  his  mind  about  it,  but  his  mind 
once  made  up,  he  can  never  see  any  call  to 
7 


s    "Wait  anD  tumor  of  Bmerican  politics 

change  it.  The  mountaineer  never  puts  himself 
in  the  way  of  a  candidate.  The  candidate  must 
seek  him,  and  must  be  thoroughly  imbued  with 
respect  for  the  might  and  majesty  of  the  indi- 
vidual voter. 

In  some  cases  the  self-importance  of  the  in- 
dividual voter  amounts  to  absurdity.  For  in- 
stance, not  long  ago  a  present  county  Judge, 
who  was  a  candidate  for  reelection,  was  watering 
his  horse  in  the  ford  of  a  creek,  when  a  lank, 
loosely  built  fellow  on  a  saddleless  mule  came 
down  from  the  opposite  mountain,  and  turning 
neither  to  the  right  nor  the  left,  rode  splashing 
and  plunging  straight  through  the  stream,  al- 
most bumping  into  the  gasping,  struggling  Judge 
as  he  passed. 

"Hey  there,  what  you  doing?"  cried  the 
man  with  the  Judge  who  was  getting  his  share 
of  the  sprinkling. 

"  Acrossin'  this  crick  in  the  ford,"  drawled 
the  mountaineer. 

"But  Lord,"  cried  the  other,  "you  needn't 
drown  people." 

"  Hadn't  a'  been  thar,  ye  wouldn't  a'  got 
splattered,"  returned  the  mountaineer,  un- 
moved. 

"But  you  could  have  ridden  over  a  little," 
expostulated  the  other. 


lUit  an&  Ibumor  of  Bmecican  politico   9 

"Hain't  never  seed  no  call  to  git  out  of  a 
straight  road  yit,"  remarked  the  mountaineer 
serenely. 

"  I  suppose  of  course  you  know  that  this  gen- 
tleman you  have  treated  to  a  shower  bath  is  the 
Judge  of  this  county  ?  ' ' 

"Knowed  it  all  the  time,"  admitted  the 
mountaineer,  indifferently.  "  'Tain't  so  much, 
though.  I  'low  Jedges  is  made  by  votin'. 
Hain't  they?  I'm  a  voter — me,"  and  a  touch 
of  arrogance  came  into  his  voice.  "Got  six 
boys  and  ten  nephys  and  three  o'  my  gals  got 
husbands — all  voters — we.  That  air  somethin'. 
Gee-up,  mewl." 

And  he  disappeared  through  the  low-growing 
laurel. 

"  Pap's  "  Indifference 

Sometimes  an  old  fellow  will  take  it  into  his 
head  not  to  commit  himself  with  regard  to  his 
intentions  on  election  day.  With  such  a  one 
the  candidate  always  sees  a  time.  One  after- 
noon a  candidate  for  sheriff  rode  up  to  a  cabin 
built  high  upon  the  side  of  a  mountain.  In 
answer  to  the  "Hello!"  eight  shock-headed 
children  came  rolling  out  of  the  only  opening  in 
the  side  of  the  house. 

"  Where's  your  father  ?  "  asked  the  candidate. 


10  TRUit  and  twmor  of  Bmerican  Politics 

Several  of  the  youngsters  disappeared  around 
the  side  of  the  house  at  the  sound  of  the  voice, 
but  they  gave  no  answer. 

"Your  father — where  is  he?"  again  de- 
manded the  candidate.  Still  he  got  no  answer. 

"  Well,  then,  where  is  your  pap?  " 

"Aw,  pap?"  A  look  of  intelligence  spread 
over  their  faces.  "  He's  smokin'." 

"Tell  him  to  come  out  here,  will  you ? " 

The  remainder  of  the  brood  scampered  off. 
Presently  a  boy  stuck  his  head  around  the 
corner  of  the  house.  "Pap  'lows  he  never 
meanders  about  when  he's  a-smokin'.  He  jest 
sets  an'  smokes." 

"Well,  is  he  in  the  house  or  out  of  it?" 
asked  the  candidate,  politely. 

"  Out,"  was  the  laconic  reply. 

"  Do  you  suppose  he  will  object  to  our 
riding  around  where  he  is  '  settin' '  and 
a-smokin'  ?" 

The  boy  darted  out  of  sight  and  soon  came 
back  again.  "  Pap  'lows  he  ain't  holdin'  yore 
horses  ? ' ' 

The  candidate  thought  he  would  risk  it,  so  he 
went  around  in  the  direction  taken  by  the  boy. 
"Pap"  was  sitting  on  a  log  taking  long  draws 
from  a  much-discolored  cob  pipe.  Ordinarily, 
the  mountaineer  is  the  most  hospitable  fellow  in 


"Wait  and  tumor  of  American  politics  11 

the  world,  but  "pap  "  paid  no  attention  to  the 
candidate. 

"Fine  afternoon,"  remarked  the  candidate 
for  sheriff. 

"  Seed  many  a  one  as  fine,"  returned  "  pap," 
listlessly. 

"The  warm,  earthy  smell  makes  a  fellow  feel 
like  he  wants  to  get  hold  of  his  hoe,"  again 
tried  the  would-be  sheriff. 

'•'  Tears  like  you  hain't  got  hold  o'  yourn 
yit,"  returned  "pap." 

The  candidate  made  another  effort  to  be 
agreeable.  "  You  have  a  pretty  clearing  here. 
I  presume  you  raise  fine  potatoes  and  corn." 

"Pap"  removed  his  pipe,  spat  deliberately, 
and  returned  the  pipe  to  his  mouth.  "  'Tain't 
a  good  idee  to  presoom." 

Seeing  that  the  man  disdained  to  pass  the 
pleasantries  of  the  day,  the  unlucky  candidate 
plunged  at  once  into  politics.  "  You  are  inter- 
ested in  the  coming  primary,  I  suppose?"  he 
began  blandly. 

"  Hain't  much  more  sense  in  supposin'  than 
they  is  in  presoomin'." 

The  candidate  began  to  get  exasperated. 

"Well,  then,  leaving  supposin'  and  pre- 
soomin' out  of  the  question,  how  do  you  stand 
in  the  coming  election  ?  ' ' 


12  lUit  and  fmmor  of  Bmerican  politics 

"  Hev  stood  in  water  and  snow,  but  never 
tried  standin'  in  elections,"  snapped  "  pap." 

"Well,"  cried  the  thoroughly  flustered  can- 
didate, "I  reckon  you  know  I'm  running  for 
sheriff,  and  I'm  here  to  ask  you  to  vote  for  me." 

"  Pap"  cocked  his  eye  at  him  speculatively. 
"  How  do  you  know  you  hain't  walkin'  fer 
sheriff?" 

This  was  too  much  for  the  candidate,  so  he 
got  on  his  horse  and  rode  away  without  another 
word. 

Kentucky  Hospitality 

At  the  next  place  at  which  the  candidate 
stopped,  his  reception  was  typical  of  the  big- 
hearted  mountaineer.  The  owner  of  the  cabin 
met  the  candidate  at  the  fence.  "Light  and 
come  in!  Light  and  come  in!"  he  cried, 
delightedly.  "Gettin1  late.  You  must  bunk 
right  here  to-night.  No,  don't  say  nothin' 
'bout  comin'  in  unexpected.  Had  my  weather 
eye  open  all  day  fer  ye.  Tol'  the  ole  woman 
this  mornin'  this  was  fine  candidatin'  weather. 
Got  plenty  dried  beans  and  bacon.  Meetin'  at 
the  church  house  to-morrer.  Kin  see  every- 
body on  the  crick  right  thar.  Come  in.  Come 
in." 

The  mountain  candidate  is  himself  a  most 


"Cdlt  ano  tumor  of  american  politics  is 

interesting  character.  He  is  usually  a  wiry, 
sinewy  fellow,  with  lots  of  get-up.  Purpose 
dominates  him;  nothing  daunts  him  in  his 
electioneering,  neither  rain  nor  snow  nor  sleet ; 
neither  the  cold  shoulder  nor  the  stinging 
speeches  of  his  opponents.  Former  defeat  only 
shows  him  his  weak  points,  and  once  he  goes 
after  an  office,  nothing  but  death  or  some  other 
office  ever  calls  him  off. 

Something  New  in  Politics 
One  of  the  campaign  stories  that  floated 
through  the  Senate  cloakroom  one  day,  re- 
lated to  Senator  Fairbanks,  of  Indiana,  and 
Governor  Shaw,  of  Iowa.  According  to  the 
story  these  two  orators  were  stumping  Ken- 
tucky. After  a  successful  meeting,  the  Ken- 
tucky Colonel,  who  had  the  two  Republican 
statesmen  in  charge,  invited  them  into  the  hotel 
barroom  for  some  refreshment. 

"What '11    you    have?"  he    asked    Senator 
Fairbanks. 

"A  little  cold  Apollinaris,"  was  the  reply. 
"And   you?"    said    the   host   to   Governor 
Shaw. 

"I  think  I  will  have  a  glass  of  buttermilk." 
The    barkeeper   turned   to   the   Kentuckian. 
"  What  shall  I  give  you,  Colonel?  "  he  asked. 


14  lUft  an£>  tmmor  of  Bmerfcan  politics 

The  Kentucky  gentleman  heaved  a  long  sigh. 
"Under  the  circumstances,"  he  said,  "I  think 
you  can  give  me  a  piece  of  pie." 

Stumping  versus  Stumpage 

The  state  of  Michigan  has  earned  the  reputa- 
tion of  sending  lumber  kings  to  the  United 
States  Senate.  General  Alger  was  a  lumber 
king  when  he  started  on  his  national  career, 
and  the  late  Senator  Stockbridge,  who  also 
represented  the  woody  state  in  the  Senate,  made 
his  millions  through  trees. 

But  Senator  Julius  C.  Burrows  won  his  posi- 
tion, not  through  being  a  lumber  king,  but  on 
account  of  his  splendid  triumphs  on  the  stump. 
Born  in  Pennsylvania,  he  became  a  lawyer ;  and 
in  the  Civil  War,  was  an  officer  on  the  Northern 
side.  At  the  close  of  the  war,  he  established 
himself  at  Kalamazoo,  and  soon  became  very 
popular. 

His  district  sent  him  to  Congress  for  nine 
terms ;  he  left  the  lower  house  and  entered  the 
Senate  on  the  death  of  Senator  Stockbridge,  to 
fill  out  his  unexpired  term ;  and  on  the  con- 
clusion of  the  term  was  reflected,  in  1899,  for  a 
full  six  years. 

At  a  recent  dinner-party  in  Washington  at 
one  of  the  great  diplomatic  houses,  the  cost  of 


Tldit  ano  Ibumor  of  Bmerican  politics  is 

living  in  that  city  was  a  subject  of  conversation, 
and  diplomats  and  statesmen  alike  agreed  that 
one  ought  really  to  be  independently  rich  to 
keep  up  a  prominent  social  life  there. 

"If  only  we  were  all  lumber  kings  from 
Michigan  !  "  said  one  diplomat  with  a  sigh. 

"Yes,"  said  Senator  Burrows  with  a  smile, 
' '  I  often  realize  that  I  made  the  mistake  of 
my  career  by  going  into  stumping  instead  of 
stumpage." 

"  Parson  "  Brownlow  Objects 
Among  the  many  good  stories  told  of  the 
eccentric  "Parson"  Brownlow,  military  gov- 
ernor of  Tennessee  during  the  Civil  War,  the 
following  is  most  characteristic  of  the  "  Par- 
son." Back  in  the  warm  days  of  Whiggery 
and  Democracy,  Brownlow  was  a  fiery  Whig  as 
well  as  an  ardent  Methodist.  His  peculiar 
temperament  rendered  him  a  banner  member  of 
the  Church  Militant  and  earned  for  him  the 
sobriquet  of  "The  Fighting  Parson."  On  this 
occasion  he  was  assisting  at  a  Methodist  re- 
vival service  where  they  were  having  what  the 
brethren  termed  "  a  refreshing  season  from  the 
Lord."  Religious  fervor  ran  high  and  the 
"mourner's  bench"  was  crowded  with  peni- 
tents. At  the  same  time  some  of  the  services 


16  liCUt  anO  t>umor  of  Bmerican  politics 

verged  upon  campaign  meetings,  and  political 
feeling  always  ran  high. 

An  aged  minister  of  the  Democratic  faith  was 
leading  in  prayer,  while  "Parson"  Brownlow, 
from  the  "Amen  Corner"  gave  the  responses 
in  the  most  approved  Methodist  fashion.  After 
bespeaking  the  Lord's  mercy  for  the  world  of 
sinners,  the  heathen,  and  the  balance  of  man- 
kind, the  preacher  became  more  specific  in  his 
petitions. 

"Lord,  convert  the  soul  of  Andrew  John- 
son," he  prayed. 

There  was  some  hesitation  in  the  "  Parson's  " 
corner,  but  at  length  he  shouted  "Amen," 
though  with  manifest  reluctance. 

The  preacher  continued  : 

"  Lord,  convert  the  soul  of  Felix  Grundy." 

Again  the  response  from  the  "Amen  Cor- 
ner" wavered,  but  at  last  it  came, — in  the 
nature  of  a  concession. 

Then  waxing  bolder  the  wrestler  in  prayer 
cried  :  "  Lord,  if  it  be  Thy  will,  convert  the 
whole  Democratic  Party  !  " 

The  congregation  was  startled,  and  the  pray- 
ing brother  somewhat  disconcerted  to  hear 
in  fervent  tones  from  "  The  Fighting  Parson  "  : 

"  God  forbid  !  It  would  bankrupt  Divine 
grace  and  exhaust  the  plan  of  salvation  !  " 


"Cdtt  an&  l)umor  ot  Hmerfcan  politics  17 

A  Remarkable  Peroration 

A  candidate  who  was  filled  to  overflowing  with 
prophetic  fervor  and  inspiration,  declared  in 
the  most  grandiloquent  manner:  "I  see  a 
vision  float  before  my  eyes — it  is  the  car  of 
progress,  rolling  on  in  its  majesty,  gnashing  its 
teeth  as  it  goes." 

This  reminds  one  of  a  similar  flower  of 
rhetoric  which  graced  the  speech  of  a  chairman 
of  a  meeting  when  introducing  a  certain  "self- 
made"  candidate:  "He  may  be  a  rough 
diamond,  but  he  is  a  diamond  which  wears  the 
white  flower  of  a  blameless  life,  and  bears  aloft 
in  his  right  hand  the  torch  of  truth." 

Changed  His  Politics 

The  late  John  J.  Bagley,  during  his  second 
successful  campaign  on  the  Republican  ticket 
for  Governor  of  Michigan,  spoke  one  evening  at 
Kalamazoo,  and  at  the  beginning  of  his  re- 
marks he  alluded  frankly  to  his  lack  of  ora- 
torical gifts.  After  he  had  finished,  a  man 
pushed  forward,  grasped  his  hand  warmly,  and 
said :  "  Governor,  I  have  been  a  lifelong 
Democrat,  but  at  the  coming  election  I  shall 
vote  for  you."  "Thank  you,"  replied  the 
Governor,  much  gratified;  "may  I  ask  the 
particular  reason  for  your  change?  " 


is  "Cdit  anD  f>umor  of  Smerican  politico 

"Because  you  are  the  first  speaker  on  either 
side  in  this  campaign  that  I  have  heard  tell  the 
truth.  You  said  when  you  began  that  you 
couldn't  make  much  of  a  speech,  and,  by  jinks, 
you  can't  1  " 

Ready  to  Defend  His  Mother's  Character 

A  good  political  campaign  story  is  related  in 
The  Sentimentalists.  Mrs.  Kent,  a  sort  of 
American  "  Becky  Sharp,"  tells  the  story  to  some 
magnates  whom  she  has  invited  to  dinner  for 
political  reasons  : 

"What!"  cried  Mrs.  Kent,  "you  never 
heard  about  O'Brien  and  the  German  vote ! 
You  have,  Mr.  Proudfoot?  You  have,  Mr. 
Morrison  ?  Nobody  ?  Well,  well.  It's  not  a 
very  savory  story,  but  this  is  so  nearly  a  stag 
dinner  that  it  may  pass. 

"In  one  section  of  the  candidate's  district," 
began  Mrs.  Kent,  "the  German  vote  was 
decisive.  So  O'Brien  advertised  a  great 
Sprechenfest,  and  chartered  an  excursion  train 
to  the  picnic  ground.  In  the  afternoon,  he 
gave  out  prizes  he'd  provided  for  the  winners  of 
the  athletic  contests.  Then  he  began  his 
speech. 

"'Ladies  and  gentlemen,'  he  said,  'I  am 
pleased  and  proud  to  be  here  as  one  of  you,  for 


Wit  and  tmmor  of  American  politico  19 

I  feel  I  am  amongst  my  own  people.  I  am  of 
Proosian  blood.  My  mother  was  a  Schneider.' 

"  '  Her  name  was  Hennessy,'  called  a  voice 
in  the  crowd. 

"  '  The  German  people  are  the  salvation  of 
the  country  ! '  shouted  O'Brien.  '  I  am  one  of 
them,  partly  by  blood,  wholly  by  inclination.' 

"The  next  day  he  spoke  in  a  small  mining 
village  composed  mostly  of  Italians.  To  these 
he  said  :  '  My  name  is  Irish,  but  I  am  an 
Italian  at  heart.  I  glory  in  the  epithet  of  Dago 
applied  to  me  as  I  walk  upon  the  streets.  My 
mother  was  a  Sboretti,  and  I  am  proud  to  be  of 
the  blood  of  your  gifted  and  maltreated  race.' 

"  '  Your  mother  was  a  Hennessy,'  came  from 
the  voice  that  had  before  interrupted.  But  as 
before,  O'Brien  passed  it  by. 

"  Three  days  later  he  addressed  a  camp 
of  laborers  on  the  railroad.  They  were  mostly 
Hungarians.  He  said  :  •'  In  beginning,  permit 
me  to  say  that  my  sympathies  are  with  the  peo- 
ple of  your  blood.  Foreign  though  my  name  is 
to  your  ears,  it  is  my  proudest  memory  that  my 
mother  was  a  Lithuanian  peasant  woman.' 

"  'By  the  name  of  Hennessy,'  interjected  the 
familiar  voice. 

"  '  In  this  country  you  begin  by  being  the 
people  of  the  pick,  and  you  end  by  being  the 


20  TMH  ano  twmor  of  amerfcan  politics 

pick  of  the  people,'  continued  O'Brien.  '  I  am 
proud  to  count  myself  one  of  you,  and  I  hope 
when  it  comes  to  counting,  you  will  each  of  you 
count  one  for  me.' 

"  O'Brien  closed  his  campaign  before  a 
native  American  audience.  '  I  am  glad  to 
think,  though  my  name  is  Irish,  that  my 
mother  was  of  a  good  old  New  England 
family.' 

"'By  the  name  of  Hennessy,'  the  fateful 
voice  reminded  him. 

"This  time  O'Brien  lost  his  temper  at  the 
persecution. 

"  '  I'll  knock  the  scoundrel  down  that  says  a 
word  against  my  mother's  character,'  he  roared. 
'  But  if  that  fellow  down  there  knows  her  name 
was  Hennessy,  then  he's  the  man  that  was  with 
her  when  she  left  me  hanging  in  a  basket  on 
Mike  O'Brien's  door-knob,  and  I'm  ashamed  to 
own  him  as  my  dad — I'm  ashamed  to  own  him 
as  my  dad  !  ' 

How  Honesty  and  Frankness  Won 

If  there  was  one  thing  characteristic  of  the  late 
Senator  Gear  of  Iowa,  it  was  his  frankness. 
Senator  Dolliver  once  recalled  an  instance  in 
which  the  exhibition  of  this  trait  worked  to  Mr. 
Gear's  advantage. 


"edit  an&  Dumot  of  Bmcrican  politics  21 

Gear  was  a  candidate  for  Congress.  The  Pro- 
hibition sentiment  was  running  high  in  his  dis- 
trict, and  the  temperance  people  concluded  to 
put  the  candidate  through  an  examination. 
They  held  a  meeting  to  which  they  invited  Mr. 
Gear.  He  accepted.  The  chairman  of  the 
meeting  was  a  Quaker. 

"We  learn,"  said  the  Quaker  to  Mr.  Gear, 
"  that  thee  does  not  belong  to  any  temperance 
society,  and  that  thee  does  take  a  drink  when  it 
pleases  thee." 

"That  is  true,"  replied  Mr.  Gear,  without 
any  hesitation. 

"Thee  is  very  frank,"  said  the  Quaker,  "and 
thy  frankness  is  more  to  be  commended  than  thy 
habits.  We  do  not  think  thee  ought  to  drink, 
but  if  thou  hadst  lied  to  us,  we  would  not  have 
supported  thee.  Thee  will  now  receive  our 
votes." 

And  Mr.  Gear  did  get  their  votes.  He  never 
forgot  the  incident  and  its  moral. 

She  Wouldn't  Say  a  Word  About  It 

"The  best  laid  plans  of  mice  and  candidates 
gang  aft  agley,"  said  a  Southwestern  member  of 
Congress  to  a  party  of  talkers  on  a  Pullman, 
"and  I  have  been  a  candidate.  When  I  was 
campaigning  for  my  last  reelection  I  had  a  forci- 


22  Trait  ano  1>umor  of  Bmerlcan  politics 

ble,  not  to  say  painful,  example  of  it.  I  was 
working  through  the  back  counties  in  company 
with  a  valuable  henchman  of  mine,  and  one  day 
I  was  driving  alone  across  the  country  in  a  buck- 
board  to  meet  him  coming  by  train.  It  was  a 
lonely  way,  and  in  the  course  of  it,  I  overtook 
two  women  walking.  One  was  evidently  the 
mother  of  the  other,  and  both  were  extremely 
rural.  Being  by  nature  gallant,  and  by  nomina- 
tion a  candidate,  I  at  once  stopped  and  asked  if 
I  couldn't  give  them  a  lift.  The  younger  one 
smiled,  the  older  one  hesitated,  and  both  of  them 
looked  at  each  other  and  at  the  buckboard  with 
me  on  the  seat. 

"'That's  all  right,'  I  hastened  to  explain; 
'  either  one  of  you  can  drive,  I  guess  ? ' 

"  '  We  kin,'  said  the  older  woman, '  but ' 

"  'Then  both  of  you  take  the  seat,  and  I'll 
jump  up  behind,'  I  interrupted,  getting  out  and 
waving  them  to  my  place  with  my  very  best  bow. 
I  had  been  a  candidate  long  enough  to  know  that 
there  was  nothing  like  being  polite  to  the  ladies, 
if  a  man  wanted  to  keep  on  the  good  side  of  the 
voters  they  represented. 

"They  got  in,  and  I  sat  on  behind  with  my 
feet  hanging  over,  not  a  very  dignified  position 
for  a  statesman,  but  candidates  do  a  good  many 
ihings  in  their  efforts  to  become  statesmen,  and 


"CQlit  an&  l)umor  of  Smerican  politics  23 

we  moved  off  down  the  road.  I  was  not  pecul- 
iarly well  situated  to  carry  on  a  conversation, 
but  I  was  not  going  to  lose  any  opportunities, 
and  I  talked  in  my  best  manner,  and  inciden- 
tally referred  to  the  fact  that  I  was  a  member  of 
Congress  from  that  district  and  a  candidate  for 
reelection.  The  statement  seemed  to  cast  a 
gloom  over  the  community,  and  the  women  grew 
strangely  silent,  especially  the  older  one.  A 
couple  of  miles  further  along,  the  road  forked, 
and  not  far  ahead,  on  the  fork  I  was  to  follow, 
there  was  a  house,  the  first  one  we  had  come  to. 
The  women  stopped  the  horse  and  began  to  get  out. 

"  '  What's  the  matter  ?  '  I  inquired  in  surprise. 
'  Do  you  take  the  other  fork  ?  If  you  do,  I'll 
take  you  home,'  which  I  thought  was  doing  the 
handsome  in  great  shape. 

"  'No,'  said  the  elder  woman,  'we're  goin* 
the  same  way  you  air,  but  you  see  we  ain't 
knowed  in  all  the  houses  we  pass,  and  ther's  no 
tellin'  what  people'll  say  if  they  see  us  ridin' 
'round  with  a  Congressman.  I  reckon  it  couldn't 
do  no  harm  to  an  old  married  woman  like 
me,  but  my  darter  has  got  ter  be  pertickler. 
We  air  jist  as  much  obleeged  to  yer  though  fer 
the  ride  you  have  give  us  so  fer.' 

"  '  Oh,  don't  mention  it,'  I  responded,  trying 
to  throw  in  enough  sarcasm  to  paralyze  her. 


24  Wit  and  tumor  of  Bmerican  politics 

"  '  Don't  be  afeerd,'  said  the  mother,  missing 
the  sarcasm  entirely,  'we  won't  say  a  word 
about  it  to  nobody,  shore. ' 

"  That  ended  it  for  me,  and  with  a  parting 
salutation,  and  several  remarks  of  a  different  char- 
acter made  wholly  to  myself,  I  drove  off  leaving 
them  waiting  until  I  was  clear  out  of  sight. ' ' 


Depew  Took  the  Hint 

During  the  campaign  of  1900,  Senator  Chaun- 
cey  M.  Depew  made  an  effective  tour  of  New 
York  State.  At  one  of  the  towns  he  visited,  the 
enthusiastic  Republicans  emphasized  each  good 
point  of  his  speech  with  a  blast  from  a  cannon. 
Whenever  Depew  would  hit  the  Democrats  a 
good  square  lick  between  the  eyes,  the  cannon 
would  go  "  bang." 

The  crowd  shouted  with  joy,  and  Depew,  in- 
spired by  the  fervor  of  the  audience's  enthusiasm, 
talked  and  talked.  For  a  moment  he  happened 
to  pause  to  get  his  breath.  Across  the  air  from 
the  field  where  the  cannon  was  stationed  there 
came  these  words  : 

"  Captain,  when  is  this  old  man  going  to  quit? 
We've  only  four  cartridges  left." 

Mr.  Depew  took  the  hint.  He  closed  his 
speech  in  four  minutes. 


Trait  ano  Ibumoc  of  Hmecican  politics  25 

A  Shrewd  Political  Trick 

One  of  the  men  who  will  enter  the  next  Con- 
gress as  a  member  of  the  House  makes  this  hon- 
est confession  : 

"  You  know  that  my  district  is  too  close  for 
comfort.  One  evening  I  had  a  big  meeting  in  a 
locality  where  it  was  a  toss-up  which  party  would 
win  out  at  the  polls.  I  had  not  lived  all  my 
years  in  the  district,  but  I  challenged  any  man 
within  the  hearing  of  my  voice  to  put  his  finger 
on  a  single  act  of  mine  that  so  much  as  suggested 
want  of  honesty  or  manliness. 

"A  weazened  little  old  chap  arose  in  the  back 
of  the  room,  and  in  a  shrill  nasal  voice  read  what 
purported  to  be  a  clipping  from  a  western  news- 
paper, the  date  being  in  the  early  '70*5.  In  it 
I  was  charged  with  getting  all  my  poultry  from 
a  neighbor's  chicken  coop,  with  being  a  Sunday- 
school  superintendent  as  a  blind,  and  with  de- 
camping between  two  days  with  $5,000  of  my 
partner's  money. 

"The  audience  looked  black,  and  muttered 
ominously.  I  dramatically  called  for  the  clip- 
ping, and  it  was  brought  to  me  by  a  young  man 
in  the  audience  while  I  was  denying  the  accusa- 
tions in  burning  language,  and  branding  them  as 
the  contemptible  products  of  a  desperate  oppo- 
sition. 


26  TKUt  and  tmmor  of  Bmerfcan  Politics 

"  I  read  the  article  aloud,  and  then  asked  for 
a  few  hours  in  which  to  refute  it  by  telegraphic 
evidence.  Suddenly  I  braced  up,  tried  the 
paper  between  my  finger  and  thumb,  held  it 
between  me  and  the  light,  and  jubilantly  ex- 
claimed :  '  Gentlemen,  I  know  something  about 
paper,  as  I'm  interested  in  a  factory.  This  is 
made  from  wood  fiber,  and  there  were  no  wood- 
fiber  mills  thirty  years  ago.' 

' '  Then  I  scorched  and  roasted  with  mighty 
indignation,  until  I  had  the  crowd  in  a  frenzy, 
and  it  rushed  forth  to  wreak  vengeance  on  my 
traducer,  after  a  unanimous  vote  to  support  me. 
It  was  a  small  town,  and  they  searched  house 
after  house,  but  failed  to  find  their  victim." 

"Where  was  he?  " 

"Well,  of  course  they  didn't  go  through  my 
house.  The  dear  old  chap  was  my  favorite 
uncle.  Great  scheme,  wasn't  it?  " 

Dolliver's  Eloquence 

Senator  Dolliver  of  Iowa  tells  a  good  cam- 
paign story  on  himself.  When  a  member  of  the 
House,  he  was  making  speeches  in  his  Con- 
gressional district,  and  arrived  one  afternoon  at  a 
small  town.  When  he  reached  the  hotel,  he  dis- 
covered that  the  proprietor,  an  old  friend  of  his, 
had  voluntarily  gone  to  jail  rather  than  pay  what 


•wait  ano  Dumor  of  Bmerican  politics  2? 

he  believed  to  be  an  unjust  and  illegal  tax.  The 
hotelkeeper  soon  learned  that  Dolliver  was  in 
town,  and  thereupon  sent  this  note  to  the  sheriff : 

"Dear  Mr.  Sheriff:  Please  let  me  out  of 
jail  for  two  hours  to  hear  my  friend  Dolliver 
make  a  speech." 

" The  sheriff,"  says  Mr.  Dolliver,  "was  not 
only  an  obliging  soul,  but  he  was  not  devoid  of 
humor.  He  sent  an  order  to  the  hotelkeeper 
releasing  him  from  jail  for  two  hours  to  hear  me 
speak,  and  then  he  added  :  '  The  remainder  of 
your  punishment  is  remitted.'  ' 

He  Clinched  His  Argument 

"  Jim  Butler,  the  big  fellow  from  St.  Louis, 
who  had  been  elected  to  the  House  of  Rep- 
resentatives, is  the  leading  character  in  a  good 
story  told  out  our  way,"  remarked  John  P. 
Mackliff,  an  interesting  reconteur  from  the 
Mound  City,  one  night  at  Chamberlain's.  "  I 
cannot  vouch  for  the  truth  of  the  narrative,  but, 
as  it  runs,  Jim  was  making  a  speech  to  an 
audience  of  stock-yard  employees,  and  pro- 
ceeded in  a  rich  Irish  accent  to  berate  Trusts 
and  combinations  in  trade. 

"  '  You  must  bate  the  Trusts  or  they  will  ate 
you  up,'  declared  the  then  candidate  for  Con- 
gress, who  is  really  a  competent  man,  possessing 


28  TKlit  anO  twmor  of  American  politics 

plenty  of  intellect  to  cope  with  his  future  asso- 
ciates in  the  House.  '  Here  yez  hev  hed  the 
sthreet  cars  in  St.  Loois.  It  used  to  be  that  you 
could  ride  to  the  Four  Courts  for  five  chits,  and 
thin  you  pade  five  cints  more  to  ride  to  the 
stock-yards.  That  was  tin  cints  going  and  tin 
cints  coming — twenty  cints  a  day.  Now,  phat 
have  they  done  ?  You  pay  five  cints  to  ride  to 
the  Four  Courts,  where  they  give  yez  a  red  pace 
of  paper  that  takes  yez  to  the  stock-yards  for 
nothing.  Five  cints  going  and  five  cints  coming 
— tin  cints  a  day. 

"  '  It  used  to  be  that  you  could  walk  and  save 
twenty  cints  a  day,'  continued  the  St.  Louis 
statesman,  preparing  to  clinch  his  argument,  and 
speaking  with  great  emphasis,  '  but  now  you  kin 
walk  and  save  only  tin  cints  a  day.'  " 

A  Pathetic  Situation 

"  Just  to  show  what  a  little  thing  will  turn  the 
tide,  "  said  an  up-state  New  York  politician  the 
other  day,  "I'll  tell  you  a  little  yarn  about  a 
friend  of  mine  who  ran  for  sheriff  of  St.  Law- 
rence County  and  got  licked  out  of  his  boots. 

"  Tom  is  a  big  fellow  and  ordinarily  he  has 
a  voice  like  a  bull,  but  when  he  gets  excited  that 
voice  just  narrows  down  and  runs  away  into  a 
sickenin*  squeak. 


TOUt  ano  twmor  of  American  politics  29 

"  Well,  Tom  stopped  one  night  to  address  the 
voters  at  Ogdensburg,  our  biggest  town,  about 
eleven  miles  from  Canton,  the  county  seat,  an' 
to  make  a  good  shovvin'  a  lot  of  the  boys  from 
Canton  came  over  with  a  brass  band.  When 
the  local  Democrats  heard  that  we  would  have 
a  brass  band,  they  got  up  one,  too,  but  they  kept 
it  hid  in  a  barn  until  Tom  should  get  well 
under  way,  when  they  intended  to  bring  it  out 
an'  stop  our  meetin'. 

"  We  knew  somethin'  was  in  the  wind,  but 
we  couldn't  make  out  what  it  was  until  Tom 
had  got  well  under  way.  He  was  bellerin'  out 
the  iniquities  of  the  Democrats,  dwellin'  par- 
ticularly on  the  mean  things  they'd  done  to  him 
in  the  past,  when  something  happened  in  the 
barn,  an'  his  speech  was  punctuated  by  a  big 
'  Booo  Boooo  1 '  from  the  bass  horn. 

"Well,  sir,  Tom  he  went  to  pieces,  an'  just 
in  the  middle  of  a  grand  threat  he  was  going  to 
perpetrate  on  the  Democrats  on  election  day,  his 
voice  gave  clean  out,  an'  left  his  jaws  afa'nnin' 
the  air  without  givin'  forth  a  sound.  To  see 
Tom  workin*  to  resurrect  that  voice  would  have 
melted  the  heart  of  a  stoic,  for  it  was  pathetic. 
Every  muscle  in  his  face  writhed  till  the  tears 
ran  down  his  cheeks.  An'  one  old  feller  in  the 
crowd  sung  out : 


30  TKUt  ano  1>umor  of  Hmencan  politics 

"  '  We  know  they  did  treat  ye  pow'ful  bad, 
Tom,  but  I  wouldn't  cry  about  it ! ' 

"That  done  it.  Tom  never  held  his  head 
up  again  that  campaign.  An'  he  got  only  ten 
votes  in  Ogdensburg." 

Senator  Vest  and  the  Pigs 

Senator  Vest  tells  a  very  amusing  story  on 
himself,  which  shows  how  often,  or  how  oc- 
casionally, an  innocent  man  must  confess  guilt 
to  avoid  punishment.  He  was  a  candidate  for 
the  legislature  in  Cooper  County,  in  1860,  against 
Thomas  McDearmon  and  Judge  Walker.  It 
was  a  close  and  exciting  canvass,  involving,  in 
the  daily  discussion,  the  approaching  secession 
and  war  questions.  It  was  Vest's  first  candi- 
dacy for  office,  although  his  reputation  as  an 
orator  was  rapidly  spreading  over  Missouri.  No 
one  of  the  three  candidates  favored  secession  at 
that  time.  Vest  was  rapidly  drifting  in  that 
direction.  The  friends  of  the  candidates  had 
made  a  personal  house-to-house  canvass  and 
each  claimed  the  victory.  Vest  was  supposed 
to  be  in  the  lead  by  the  more  disinterested  can- 
vassers. A  few  days  before  the  election  a  story 
was  put  afloat  that  Vest  had  stolen  three  pigs  of 
the  value  of  $6,  and  they  had  been  found  in  his 
pig-sty  at  his  residence  in  Boonville.  Vest  said 


ano  t>umor  of  amerfcan  politics  31 

he  was  so  hard  pressed  by  the  charge,  and  it 
was  doing  him  so  much  harm,  that  he  had  to 
come  out  and  acknowledge  that  the  pigs  were 
found  in  his  pen,  or  else  he  would  be  defeated. 
The  crowds  were  large  that  attended  the  daily 
discussion,  and  the  excitement  ran  very  high. 
The  day  before  the  canvass  closed  it  was  well 
known  throughout  the  county  that  Vest  had  to 
meet  the  charge  in  his  next  speech,  either  in 
Boonville  or  Bunceton,  which  caused  the  crowd 
to  be  unusually  large.  The  partisans  of  each 
candidate  were  present  in  great  numbers,  and 
seemed  so  deeply  interested  that  no  one  could 
foretell  what  would  be  the  result.  Vest,  in  that 
peculiarly  happy  style  of  his,  was  equal  to  the 
occasion.  He  appeared  on  the  hustings  in  the 
best  of  humor  and  his  face  was  radiant  with  joy. 
That  silvery  voice  of  his  was  as  clear  as  a  sun- 
beam. He  said  that  he  had  two  sons  that  had 
very  much  of  the  trait  of  many  Missourians  about 
them  ;  that  they  had  traded  an  old  pocket  knife, 
a  few  cents  in  money,  an  old  brass  ring,  and  a 
few  other  such  trinkets,  with  a  "  nigger,"  for  the 
pigs,  on  the  streets  of  Boonville ;  that  it  was  the 
boys  who  had  put  the  pigs  into  his  pen  without 
his  knowledge ;  and  that  they  were  the  stolen 
property,  and  he  was  ready  to  pay  for  them.  As 
soon  as  this  explanation  was  made,  Vest's 


32  "uait  anD  Tbumor  of  Bmctican  politics 

friends  gathered  renewed  strength  and  made 
the  welkin  ring  with  their  shouts.  It  saved  the 
day  for  Vest. 

Vest  said  that  had  he  denied  the  charge,  his 
opponents  stood  ready  to  prove  it,  and  a  war- 
rant was  there  for  his  arrest.  He  said  that  he 
cast  no  reflections  upon  his  children,  as  there 
was  no  father  who  did  not  know  that  his  boys 
would  trade  all  day  on  a  Barlow  knife,  and  for 
anything,  to  be  trading.  This  was  the  com- 
mencement of  Vest's  political  life.  Had  he  been 
then  defeated,  it  may  be,  he  never  would  have 
become  United  States  Senator,  and  would  never 
have  been  known  throughout  the  country  as  one 
of  its  foremost  orators  and  greatest  debaters. 

After  Vest  had  told  this  story,  some  one  said 
to  him :  "  That  was  a  very  good  campaign 
dodge  of  yours.  Now  tell  me  the  truth  about 
the  pigs."  He  replied  :  "I  myself  had  bought 
them  of  the  nigger,  expecting  to  have  a  Christ- 
mas pig  for  dinner  as  a  jollification  after  the 
election." 


Not  Hungry  for  Office 

In  Fairfax,  Mo.,  the  editor  of  the  Forum,  the 
local  newspaper,  in  a  recent  campaign,  was 
nominated  by  the  Democrats  for  justice  of  the 


tdtt  and  t)umot  of  Bmerlcan  politics  33 

peace.     This  is  the  way  he  announced  the  fact 
in  his  journal : 

"The  office  was  not  sought  after  by  us, 
neither  was  it  forced  upon  us.  There's  no 
mistaking  our  qualification — we  know  about  as 
much  law  as  a  brass  monkey.  But  our  friends 
said  they  were  looking  for  some  good,  honest 
man  to  make  the  race.  In  the  face  of  such  an 
indirect  compliment,  how  could  we  refuse  ?  In 
a  race  for  office  we  would  be  a  monumental 
fizzle.  We  wouldn't  ask  a  man  to  vote  for  us 
if  he'd  give  us  half  a  dollar.  Our  opponent  is 
M.  L.  Bear.  He's  an  honest  man,  too.  But 
he's  well  fixed  financially,  and  don't  need  the 
$4  to  $5  a  year  that's  in  the  office.  Neither  of 
us  will  make  an  active  canvass  for  votes,  so  you 
fellows  who  expect  to  smoke  our  cigars,  drink 
our  whiskey,  and  have  fun  at  our  expense,  will 
get  left." 

What  to  Do  With  the  "  Phillipayins  " 

Major  Henry  A.  Newman,  the  Missouri  Ex- 
Confederate,  was  one  of  those  who  could  spell- 
bind on  all  other  issues  better  than  he  could  on 
the  paramount.  He  got  in  the  way  of  ignoring 
the  subject  which  the  Kansas  City  Convention 
had  declared  to  be  vital.  One  day,  during  the 
campaign,  Major  Newman  was  down  at  Poplar 


34  DLlit  and  tbumor  of  Bmerican  politics 

Bluff  preaching  Missouri  Democracy  pure  and 
undefiled  in  his  best  form,  but  refraining  from 
any  discussion  of  "the  haul-down-the-flag " 
proposition.  Among  the  Major's  auditors  was 
a  citizen  who  marked  the  omission,  and  inter- 
rupted. 

"How  about  the  Phillipayins ? "  he  asked 
with  a  brogue  which  left  no  doubt  as  to  his 
nativity. 

Major  Newman  continued  without  appearing 
to  notice  the  questioner. 

"  How  about  the  Phillipayins?"  came  again 
at  the  end  of  one  of  the  Major's  best  periods. 

Half  a  dozen  of  these  interruptions  followed 
with  no  apparent  let-up  to  the  Irishman's  per- 
sistence. 

"My  friend,"  said  Major  Newman  at  length, 
"I'll  tell  you  about  the  Phillipayins." 

The  imitation  of  the  brogue  was  perfect,  and 
everybody  chuckled. 

"I'll  tell  you,  confidentially,"  said  the  Major 
seriously,  "what  I'm  in  favor  of  doing  with  the 
Phillipayins.  I'd  trade  the  Phillipayins  to 
Great  Britain  for  Ireland,  and  then  we  could 
raise  our  own  policemen." 

Unique  Applause 
Ex-Postmaster-General,   Mr.   Charles  Emory 


lUit  and  Dumor  of  Bmertcan  politics  35 

Smith,  made  a  great  record  in  his  four  weeks  of 
continuous  speech-making  during  a  recent 
campaign.  He  spoke  for  his  administration 
every  night,  and  sometimes  twice  a  day,  during 
that  time.  He  covered  the  country  from  Ne- 
braska to  Maine.  The  best  speech  he  made 
was  an  impromptu  one  at  Baker  University,  in 
Kansas.  The  friends  who  were  with  him  at 
that  time  chaff  him  considerably  over  it,  for 
they  put  his  inspiration  down  to  a  unique 
cause. 

He  was  merely  a  visitor  to  this  fine  University, 
which  is  Methodistic  in  its  teachings,  and  where 
many  Methodist  ministers,  out  of  active  life 
from  old  age,  spend  their  closing  days.  Several 
of  these  old  ministers  were  present  to  meet  Mr. 
Smith  when  he  came  sight-seeing  to  the  Uni- 
versity. The  President  of  the  institution  begged 
Mr.  Smith  to  make  a  speech  to  the  students ;  he 
told  the  Postmaster-General  that  he  knew  it  was 
much  to  ask  of  him,  as  his  voice  was  husky  and 
he  had  great  work  before  him,  but  that  the 
students  had  pleaded  so  earnestly  to  have  him 
talk  to  them,  that  he  hoped  he  wouldn't  refuse. 
Mr.  Smith  consented,  and  in  a  few  moments  the 
word  went  abroad  over  the  campus,  and  the 
chapel  had  standing-room  only.  A  political 
speech,  pure  and  simple,  Mr.  Smith  could  not 


36  TKHtt  ano  tnimor  of  Bmerican  politics 

give  to  these  young  men.  But  the  subtlety  and 
brilliancy  with  which  he  really  led  this  great 
body  along  on  national  issues,  without  once 
mentioning  either  Mr.  McKinley  or  Mr.  Bryan, 
imperialism  or  free  silver,  was  a  master- 
stroke. 

When  he  began  his  speech  he  had  no  idea  of 
saying  more  than  a  few  words,  but  suddenly 
from  the  nearest  seat  an  aged  minister  cried  out, 
"Amen!"  A  few  more  sentences  and  again 
that  "Amen  !  "  rang  out  from  the  chapel.  The 
oftener  it  sounded,  the  more  impassioned  and 
eloquent  and  fervent  Mr.  Smith  became.  It 
was  the  most  unique  applause  ever  given  to  a 
campaign  orator.  It  was  the  applause  that 
works  a  revivalist  up  to  the  point  of  genius,  and 
his  friends  say  that  it  was  the  cause  of  Mr. 
Smith's  inspiration. 

The  aged  ministers  were  unconscious  that  it 
was  unique  applause ;  the  speaker,  fired  by  it, 
seemed  not  to  think  it  extraordinary  ;  members 
of  his  political  party,  standing  as  onlookers, 
were  keenly  delighted  at  the  remarkable 
scene. 

At  every  volley  of  "Amens"  the  orator  be- 
came more  brilliant ;  and  that  is  why  Mr.  Smith 
is  called  "the  revivalist"  by  some  of  his  col- 
leagues. 


an&  l>umor  of  Bmerfcan  ipolitics  3? 

Mark  Twain's  Speech 

Only  once  did  Mark  Twain  appear  in  public 
as  a  political  speaker,  and  that  was  in  the  presi- 
dential campaign  of  1880.  While  visiting  in 
Elmira,  N.  Y.,  in  the  fall  of  that  year,  he  made 
a  short  speech,  introducing  to  a  Republican 
meeting,  General  Hawley  of  Connecticut.  In 
the  course  of  his  remarks,  Twain  said  :  "  Gen- 
eral Hawley  is  a  member  of  my  church  in  Hart- 
ford, and  the  author  of  'Beautiful  Snow.' 
Maybe  he  will  deny  that,  but  I  am  only  here  to 
give  him  a  character  from  his  last  place.  As  a 
pure  citizen,  I  respect  him ;  as  a  personal  friend 
of  years,  I  have  the  warmest  regard  for  him; 
as  a  neighbor  whose  vegetable  garden  adjoins 
mine,  why — why  I  watch  him.  As  the  author 
of  'Beautiful  Snow,'  he  has  added  a  new  pang 
to  winter.  He  is  a  square,  true  man  in  honest 
politics,  and  I  must  say  he  occupies  a  mighty 
lonesome  position.  So  broad,  so  bountiful  is 
his  character,  that  he  never  turned  a  tramp 
empty-handed  from  the  door,  but  always  gave 
him  a  letter  of  introduction  to  me.  Pure,  hon- 
est, incorruptible,  that  is  Joe  Hawley.  Such  a 
man  in  politics  is  like  a  bottle  of  perfumery  in  a 
glue  factory — it  may  moderate  the  stench,  but 
it  doesn't  destroy  it.  I  haven't  said  any  more 


38  "Watt  ano  t>umor  of  Bmerfcan  politics 

of  him  than  I  would  say  of  myself.     Ladies  and 
gentlemen,  this  is  General  Hawley !  " 

Adlai  E.  Stevenson's  Experiences 
Adlai  E.  Stevenson  says  he  was  filling  an  as- 
signment at  a  certain  place  which  he  does  not 
name.  The  local  chairman  had  pronounced 
upon  him  the  finest  introduction  he  had  ever 
been  given.  The  praises  were  so  many  and  so 
warmly  expressed  that  Mr.  Stevenson  says  he 
felt  himself  growing  warm.  But  just  as  the 
chairman  was  about  to  conclude,  he  hesitated, 
turned  to  the  nominee  for  vice-president  in  an 
embarrassed  way,  and  with  a  loud  whisper 
asked  :  "  What  is  your  full  name  ?  " 

Another  of  Mr.  Stevenson's  experiences  oc- 
curred in  southern  Illinois.  When  the  candi- 
date advanced  to  the  front  of  the  platform  and 
began  to  talk,  he  soon  discovered  that  a  bevy  of 
young  women  in  high  spirits  had  seated  them- 
selves just  in  front  of  him.  Mr.  Stevenson  en- 
deavored to  get  the  attention  of  his  audience, 
and  to  impress  the  dangers  of  imperialism, 
militarism,  and  so  on,  but  the  girls  giggled  and 
carried  on  as  if  the  foundations  of  the  Republic 
were  not  being  sapped.  Mr.  Stevenson  labored, 
and  was  beginning  to  wonder  what  he  would 
do,  when  a  local  leader  of  the  party  who  was 


"CQit  and  •fcumor  of  Hmertcan  politics  39 

sitting  on  the  platform  arose,  stepped  forward 
and  said  appealingly  :  "  Gals,  won't  you  keep 
still  and  give  the  old  man  a  chance?"  Mr. 
Stevenson  says  he  turned  to  the  local  leader  in 
his  most  grateful  manner  and  said  :  "I  thank 
you,  sir." 

The  Great  Unwashed 

Two  little  human  touches  are  recorded  of 
Roosevelt  and  of  Bryan  in  their  campaigning 
tours.  At  a  small  town  a  correspondent,  ac- 
companying Roosevelt  to  the  stand  from  which 
he  spoke,  slipped  and  fell,  covering  his  clothing 
with  red  mud. 

"  That's  where  you  get  your  local  color," 
said  the  governor. 

The  Bryan  incident  occurred  at  that  beautiful 
little  town  where  Frank  Campbell,  chairman  of 
the  Democratic  State  Committee,  has  his  home. 
The  reception  to  Bryan  really  merited  that 
hackneyed  term  "a  frost." 

As  Mr.  Bryan  and  Mr.  Campbell  returned  to 
their  special  car,  Mr.  Bryan  remarked:  "Now 
I  know,  Mr.  Campbell,  why  they  call  the 
Democrats  'the  great  unwashed.'  " 

"Why?"  said  Mr.  Campbell,  evidently 
startled. 

"Because  there  are  so  few  of  them  at  Bath," 


40  laait  ano  Ibumot  of  American  politics 

replied    Bryan   with   a  chuckle  at   Campbell's 
discomfiture. 

Governor  Thayer  and  W.  J.  Bryan 

Ex-Governor  Thayer  of  Nebraska  partici- 
pated in  what  W.  J.  Bryan  thinks  is  the  best 
joke  on  himself  in  his  career. 

Bryan  took  an  active  part  in  the  campaign  in 
which  Governor  Thayer  was  elected,  as  a  Re- 
publican, by  about  30,000  plurality.  He  made 
fifty  speeches  against  Thayer.  Consequently, 
after  the  election,  Bryan  was  not  certain  just 
how  Governor  Thayer  felt  towards  him. 

At  a  St.  Patrick's  Day  celebration  in  Lincoln, 
Governor  Thayer  was  put  down  for  an  oration. 
Governor  Thayer  did  not  have  a  printed  pro- 
gramme, and  depended  upon  the  secretary  of  a 
civic  organization  to  tell  him  the  parts  as  they 
came. 

The  programme  was  varied,  there  being 
speeches,  recitations,  and  songs.  When  Bryan's 
number  was  reached,  the  secretary  leaned  over 
and  whispered  in  Governor  Thayer 's  ear,  "W. 
J.  Bryan." 

Governor  Thayer  arose  and  Bryan  advanced 
towards  him.  The  former  seemed  most  cordial, 
and  it  pleased  Bryan  to  think  that  the  Governor 
was  not  harboring  any  malice  because  of  those 


TDttlit  anfc  t)umor  of  Hmcrfcan  politics  41 

campaign  speeches  made  against  him.  Gov- 
ernor Thayer  shook  Bryan's  hand  warmly,  as  he 
asked  softly : 

"  Do  you  sing  or  speak?  " 

Benton's  Passage  at  Arms 
To  show  the  danger  and  bitterness  of  the 
great  Benton  and  anti-Benton  contest,  the  fol- 
lowing is  pertinent :  When  Benton  was  a  lad 
attending  Chapel  Hill  University  in  North  Caro- 
lina, a  story  was  started  to  the  effect  that  he 
stole  some  money  and  hid  it  in  his  cravat. 
Notwithstanding  his  long  and  conspicuous  ca- 
reer on  the  national  stage,  nothing  could  kill 
that  story. 

He  and  his  friends  always  denied  the  truth 
of  the  tale,  and  the  perfect  rectitude  of  his  long 
life  in  both  public  and  private  affairs  is  proof 
positive  that  they  were  right.  If  he  had  been 
dishonest  or  corrupt,  his  opportunities  for  amass- 
ing a  fortune  by  prostituting  his  high  office  to 
base  purposes  would  have  made  him  rich  beyond 
the  dreams  of  avarice ;  but  he  died  poor — 
which  is  the  best  evidence  of  his  honesty. 
Nevertheless,  the  legend  of  his  alleged  indiscre- 
tion dogged  his  steps  always. 

When  Benton  made  his  "  Appeal  to  the  Peo- 
ple," the  "Antis"  carried  around  as  an  elec- 


4-2  Tldtt  ano  ibumor,  of  Hmerican  politics 

tioneering  document,  a  fine  life-size  portrait  of 
the  great  Senator — with  the  end  of  a  ten-dollar 
bill  protruding  from  the  corner  of  his  old-fash- 
ioned stock.  That  was  in  the  good  old  times 
"  befo'  de  wah."  Has  anything  more  cruel  or 
vicious  been  done  in  these  degenerate  days  ? 

Benton  utterly  despised  his  opponents  and 
persecutors — and  they  were  legion.  Among 
them  was  one  of  greater  intellectual  force  than 
Benton  himself,  James  Stephen  Green,  subse- 
quently a  Senator  of  the  United  States.  He  is 
the  man  who  effectually  answered  Stephen  A. 
Douglas  on  the  Lecompton  Constitution  ques- 
tion. Benton  haughtily  refused  to  hold  debate 
with  Green  or  any  of  the  rest  of  them.  He 
would  make  his  appointment,  deliver  his  speech, 
full  of  gall  and  wormwood,  aquafortis  and 
Greek  fire,  then,  gathering  up  his  papers,  he 
would  hasten  from  the  room.  But  always  some 
one  of  his  opponents  was  present  to  take  ad- 
vantage of  the  crowd  which  he  had  gathered, 
and  to  address  it. 

On  one  occasion  Green  opened  upon  him  so 
ferociously  and  so  suddenly  that  Benton  stopped 
in  the  doorway,  shook  his  clenched  fist  at  Green 
and  roared:  "It  is  written,  'Thou  shalt  not 
bear  false  witness  against  thy  neighbor  !  '  ' 

Quick   as   a   flash,    and  in  reference  to  the 


anfc  Ibumor  of  Bmcrican  politics  43 

Chapel  Hill  money  story,  Green  replied  :  "It 
is  also  written,  'Thou  shall  not  steal!'"  I 
doubt  if  the  annals  of  American  stump  oratory 
furnish  a  parallel  to  that  passage  at  arms. 

His  Second  Choice 

Even  persons  in  the  audience  would  jaw  back 
at  "The  Great  Misseurian,"  as  Benton  was 
universally  called.  Once  he  was  speaking,  on  a 
lovely  day  in  October,  in  a  magnificent  grove 
in  Rails  County.  A  substantial  farmer,  John 
Hawkins,  nicknamed  "Honest  John,"  was 
lying  on  the  luxuriant  blue  grass  under  the 
shade  of  a  tree  In  the  middle  of  the  Senator's 
speech  Hawkins  jumped  up,  waved  his  hat,  and 
shouted:  "Hurrah  for  Colonel  Benton  !  He 
has  been  my  second  choice  for  Governor  of 
Missouri  for  thirty  years  ! ' ' 

Colonel  Benton  stopped,  and  with  great  ur- 
banity inquired  :  "  May  I  ask  who  has  been 
your  first  choice?" 

"  Honest  John  "  yelled  :  "  Any  man  to  beat 
Colonel  Benton  !  " 

A  Queer  Experience 

Curtis  Guild,  Jr.,  of  Boston,  who  was  assist- 
ant orator  on  the  Roosevelt  campaign  trip 
through  the  West,  had  many  queer  experiences 


44  "mit  anJ>  tmmor  of  Bmerfcan  politics 

with  local  chairmen  who  didn't  know  him. 
Once  he  was  introduced  to  the  audience  as  "  the 
first  man  in  the  noble  codfish  state  of  Massa- 
chusetts to  volunteer  for  the  Spanish  War,  and 
the  first  man  of  Shafter's  victorious  force  to 
scale  the  walled  gates  of  Havana."  What  he 
relished  the  most,  however,  was  this  introduc- 
tion :  "  Fellow-Citizens,  I  have  the  proud 
honor  to  introduce  to  you  a  man  who  has  ac- 
companied Governor  Roosevelt  from  counting- 
room  to  battle-field,  a  man  whose  fame  is  so 
widespread  that  I  need  hardly  introduce  him,  a 
man  whose  name  is  a  household  word  through- 
out the  great  Eastern  States  " — a  slight  pause, 
and  the  chairman  bends  a  little  towards  Mr. 
Guild  and  in  a  stage  whisper :  "  Say,  what  the 
deuce  is  your  name,  anyway? " 

He  Buttered  His  Watermelon 
In  a  certain  campaign,  Col.  George  W. 
Anderson,  a  man  of  splendid  genius  and  rare 
oratorical  gifts,  was  stumping  for  Greeley  and 
Brown  down  in  southwest  Missouri.  One  night 
in  the  midst  of  his  speech,  an  old  fellow  arose 
in  the  back  of  the  house  and  said  : 

"  Colonel  Anderson,  is  it  true  that  Governor 
Brown  was  so  drunk  at  that  Yale  Alumni  dinner 
that  he  buttered  his  watermelon  ?  " 


IClit  anD  tumor  of  Hmerican  politics  45 

Colonel  Anderson  reared  back  on  his  pastern 
joints,  straightened  himself  to  his  six  feet  two, 
and  with  a  lion's  roar  answered : 

"  Yes,  it  is  true  that  Governor  Brown  buttered 
his  watermelon  at  the  Yale  Alumni  dinner,  and 
I  am  happy  to  inform  you  that  that  is  the  only  way 
in  which  watermelons  are  eaten  in  polite  so- 
ciety." 

Anderson's  happy  retort  was  greeted  with  a 
shout  of  laughter  and  a  roar  of  applause  by  his 
auditors.  His  interrogator  sat  down  discom- 
fited, and  that  was  the  last  ever  heard  of  the 
story  of  the  buttered  watermelon. 

Took  No  Interest 

Representative  Cannon  began  his  political  ca- 
reer by  running  for  State's  attorney  in  his  town. 
His  opponent  was  another  young  lawyer,  who, 
like  Cannon,  had  not  made  much  headway  in 
the  practice  of  law,  but  both  candidates  went 
upon  the  stump  and  promised  to  do  great  things 
if  elected. 

One  day,  as  the  rival  candidates  went  down 
the  street  together,  they  were  joined  by  the 
Judge  of  the  court.  He  stepped  in  between 
them,  taking  each  young  man  by  the  arm. 

"What  are  you  boys  making  all  this  fuss 
about  ?  "  he  queried. 


46  "Emit  anC>  Ibumor.  of  Bmertcan  Politics 

"  We  want  to  be  State's  attorney,"  they  re- 
plied in  unison. 

"  Well,"  said  the  Judge,  laughing,  "  I  ought 
to  take  some  interest  in  the  matter,  but  I  don't. 
No  matter  which  one  of  you  is  elected,  there 
will  be  no  criminals  sent  to  jail." 

Cannon,  telling  the  story,  says  that  he  was 
elected ;  but  whether  it  was  because  he  was 
the  best  or  the  poorest  lawyer,  he  has  never  been 
able  to  tell. 

Preferred  His  Coffee  Cold 

Senator  McCreary  of  Kentucky  was  a  fine 
campaigner.  When  he  went  the  rounds  of  his 
district,  he  kissed  all  the  babies,  praised  the 
cooking  of  the  housewives,  judged  the  cattle  of 
the  farmers,  and  adapted  himself  to  all  circum- 
stances. One  night  he  drove  up  to  the  house 
of  a  farmer  to  stop  all  night,  but  arrived  after 
the  supper  hour.  The  good  woman  of  the 
house  insisted  on  getting  him  a  supper,  but  he 
resisted,  and  said  that  he  would  take  anything 
cold  that  she  had. 

She  told  him  she  had  some  cold  ham  and 
cold  biscuits,  and  would  warm  the  coffee. 

"Never  mind  warming  the  coffee,  madam," 
said  McCreary,  "  I  prefer  it  cold."  Next  morn- 
ing at  breakfast,  the  good  lady  handed  him  a 


cup  of  sickly  looking  liquid,  saying,  "  Gov- 
ernor, you  seemed  to  enjoy  the  cold  coffee  so 
much,  I  saved  some  for  your  breakfast." 


Yes  or  No 

The  efforts  on  the  part  of  members  of  the 
House  to  pin  one  another  down  to  direct  answers 
reminded  Representative  Capron  of  Rhode  Is- 
land— one  of  the  best  story-tellers  in  the  House, 
by  the  way — of  an  experience  in  the  last  cam- 
paign. Mr.  Capron  was  very  much  bothered 
while  making  a  speech,  by  a  man  in  the  audience 
who  insisted  on  asking  questions  to  which  he 
demanded  either  "  yes  "  or  "  no  "  for  an  answer. 

"But  there  are  some  questions,"  finally  re- 
marked Mr.  Capron,  "which  cannot  be  answered 
by  '  yes '  or  '  no  ! '  " 

"  I  should  like  to  hear  one,"  scornfully  com- 
mented his  annoyer. 

"  Well,"  said  Mr.  Capron,  "  I  think  I  can 
prove  it.  Have  you  quit  beating  your  wife  ? 
Answer  '  yes  '  or  'no.'  " 

The  crowd  saw  at  once  that  Mr.  Capron  had 
the  man  in  a  trap.  If  he  said  "yes,"  it  was  a 
confession  that  he  had  been  beating  his  wife,  if 
he  said  "  no,"  it  was  an  admission  that  he  was 
still  indulging  in  the  pastime. 


CHAPTER  II      . 
New  Stories  About  Lincoln 

He  Liked  Gingerbread 

Among  the  thousands  of  stories  that  have 
been  told  of  Abraham  Lincoln — inveterate  story- 
teller though  he  was,  and  despite  the  fact  that 
he  always  had  an  anecdote  to  suit  every  situa- 
tion pat, — there  must  be  hundreds  of  which  he 
was  entirely  guiltless.  And  among  the  chaff,  it 
is  very  difficult  to  detect  the  genuine  Lincoln 
article.  But  here  are  a  few  that  bear  the 
unmistakable  stamp  of  veracity. 

"  One  day  an  old  friend  of  Lincoln's  stood 
by  him  in  the  East  Room  of  the  White  House 
as  the  throng  passed  by.  When  it  was  over, 
Lincoln  asked  his  old  friend  to  dinner.  During 
the  courses  the  old  friend  said  : 

"'Abe,  it  seems  to  me  you  ought  to  have 
more  pleasure  than  any  man  I  ever  saw/ 

"  For  a  moment  a  shadow  came  over  the  face 
of  the  President. 

"  '  It  does  look  that  way  to  some,'  he  replied. 
'  But  your  remark  recalls  an  incident  in  my 
48 


TKlit  ano  twmor  of  American  politics  49 

boyhood  which  will  illustrate  my  feelings  and 
situation.  My  mother  used  to  bake  a  lot  of 
gingerbread  every  Saturday  to  last  the  family 
over  Sunday.  She  always  managed  to  have 
enough  dough  left  over  to  make  a  lot  of 
"ginger-bread  babies,"  as  she  called  them. 
These  she  handed  out  to  me. 

"  'I  had  a  playmate — a  freckled,  red-headed 
boy,  who  always  came  over  to  my  house  on  Sat- 
urdays. We  went  out  into  the  barn,  and  he 
used  to  fill  himself  up  on  my  gingerbread  babies 
until  he  got  sick.  I  said  to  him  one  day  : 

"'"Jimmy,  you  seem  to  like  gingerbread 
mighty  well." 

"'Between  swallows  he  replied:  "Abe,  I 
reckon  I  do  like  gingerbread  better  than  any 
boy  you  ever  knew  in  all  your  born  days.  And 
Abe,  I  reckon  I  get  less  of  it  than  any  boy  you 
ever  knew."  '  " 

Had  His  Eye  on  It 

In  the  Presidential  campaign  of  1856,  the 
Democrats  in  the  West  made  an  effective  point 
by  contrasting  Mr.  Buchanan's  long  public 
career  as  a  Senator,  Secretary  of  State,  and 
Minister  to  England  with  General  Fremont's 
limited  experience,  consisting  of  a  service  of 
twenty-one  days  in  the  United  States  Senate. 


50  TMllt  and  twmor  of  Hmerican  politics 

In  the  great  campaign  of  1860,  they  tried  the 
same  tactics,  which  had  proved  so  successful,  to 
disparage  Mr.  Lincoln.  He  had  served  but 
a  single  term  in  Congress,  while  Senator  Doug- 
las had  for  many  years  enjoyed  a  national 
reputation. 

This  point  was  urged  in  a  heated  discussion, 
overheard,  between  an  ardent  supporter  of 
Senator  Douglas,  and  a  German  voter  who 
favored  Mr.  Lincoln.  The  former  finally 
thought  to  overwhelm  his  opponent  by  saying : 

"Who  is  this  Lincoln,  anyhow?  Nobody 
ever  heard  of  him  until  Senator  Douglas 
brought  him  into  notice  by  holding  joint 
debates  with  him.  Senator  Douglas,  on  the 
other  hand,  is  a  great  statesman.  Why,  he  has 
had  his  eye  on  the  Presidential  chair  for  the  last 
ten  years." 

"Vot  is  dot  you  say?"  was  the  reply. 
"  You  say  Meester  Dooglas  have  had  hees  eye 
on  the  Presidential  chair  for  ten  years?  " 

"  Yes,  that  is  just  what  I  said." 

"Veil,  you  shoost  tell  Meester  Dooglas  eef 
he  keep  hees  eye  on  dot  chair  shoost  a  leedle 
vile  longer,  he  vill  see  old  Abe  Lincoln  sitting 
down  in  it." 

That  closed  the  debate,  amid  a  roar  of  laugh- 
ter from  the  bystanders. 


anO  Dumot  ot  Bmerican  politics  51 

A  Wise  Weather  Prophet 
When  Mr.  Lincoln  was  President,  he  was 
visited  by  three  influential  Indiana  politicians. 
These  gentlemen  were  gunning  for  spoils,  and 
with  a  view  to  relieving  the  President  of  routine 
toil,  had  thoughtfully  prepared  their  "slate," 
and  duly  subscribed  to  its  provisions.  One 
gentleman — a  resident  of  Indianapolis — was 
listed  for  Postmaster;  another  hankered  to  be 
United  States  Marshal ;  the  third  would  be 
content  should  the  ermine  of  a  Federal  judge- 
ship  fall  gently  upon  him. 

The  politicians,  having  been  presented  to  the 
President,  indulged  in  a  few  commonplace  re- 
marks, then  unwrapped  their  "  slate,"  and 
placed  it  before  the  Chief  Executive  with  a 
calm  assurance. 

Mr.  Lincoln  received  their  overtures  with  his 
customary  complacency,  remarking  that  the  ap- 
plications would  be  promptly  filed,  together 
with  subsequent  letters  and  endorsements,  with 
the  department  under  which  each  properly 
belonged,  and,  while  the  three  men  from 
Indiana  were  yet  struggling  to  regain  their  feet, 
the  President,  in  his  blandest  style,  observed 
that  the  incident  recalled  a  story  he  had  once 
heard,  and,  without  waiting  for  a  request,  pro- 
ceeded to  unfold  the  tale. 


52  Ifilit  anfc  Ibumor  of  American  politics 

It  appears  that  an  Oriental  potentate  main- 
tained upon  the  royal  pay-rolls  a  functionary 
known  as  the  Imperial  Wise  Man.  It  devolved 
upon  this  wise  man,  among  other  things,  to 
forecast  and  prophesy,  heading  off  dire  proba- 
bilities, and  placing  his  sovereign  in  possession 
of  valuable  advance  information. 

Upon  a  certain  occasion,  the  potentate  gave 
notice  to  the  Imperial  Wise  Man  that  it  was  de- 
sired to  indulge  in  a  royal  hunt,  and  conse- 
quently important  to  ascertain  accurately  the 
prospective  climatic  conditions.  The  Wise  Man 
retired  for  a  couple  of  hours,  during  which 
time  he  consulted  numerous  charts  and  maps, 
and  made  many  figures  and  calculations,  finally 
appearing  before  his  Majesty  with  a  well-defined 
prophecy :  the  weather  would  be  propitious 
during  the  ensuing  three  days. 

Thereupon  the  potentate,  with  his  lords  and 
ladies  and  heralds  and  a  retinue  of  servants,  all 
clad  in  gorgeous  apparel,  gold  trappings,  and 
fine  linen,  set  forth  towards  the  hunting  pre- 
serves, some  hours  distant.  Along  about  noon, 
when  perhaps  half  the  distance  had  been  ac- 
complished, the  royal  cavalcade  suddenly  came 
upon  a  jackass  plodding  along,  bearing  upon 
his  back  a  peasant  in  coarse  raiment.  The 
countryman,  perceiving  the  evidence  of  royalty, 


TJCUt  and  fjumor  ot  amertcan  politics  53 

quickly  slipped  from  the  back  of  the  jackass, 
and,  prostrating  himself  in  the  dust,  said  : 

"Most  noble  and  august  potentate,  return 
without  delay  to  your  castle ;  a  mighty  storm  is 
about  to  fall  upon  you,  and  your  purple  robes 
and  fine  linen  and  magnificent  trappings,  and 
those  of  your  lords  and  ladies  and  suite,  will  be 
ruined,  and  you  will  be  drenched  to  the  skin ; 
return  at  once,  O  King,  return." 

The  King  and  his  court  beheld  a  cloudless 
sky,  and  laughingly  proceeded  on  their  way, 
while  the  servants  mercilessly  gibed  at  the  poor 
countryman,  who  desisted  not  in  his  protestations. 
Within  an  hour,  a  terrific  storm  arose ;  rain  fell 
in  torrents,  and  the  wind  blew  with  great  violence, 
and,  being  without  shelter,  the  King  and  his 
lords  and  ladies  and  servants  were  soaked  to  the 
skin,  and  their  fine  trappings  and  rich  apparel 
utterly  ruined.  Crestfallen  and  in  bedraggled 
garments  they  put  back  to  the  castle  with  all 
speed. 

The  Wise  Man  was  called  before  his  King,  and 
made  a  sorry  mess  of  his  explanation.  Of  course, 
he  was  discharged,  and  narrowly  escaped  with 
his  neck. 

Thereupon  the  potentate  summoned  the  coun- 
tryman who  had  foretold  the  storm,  informed  him 
he  might  consider  himself  duly  initiated  as  Im- 


54  TKHit  anO  t>umor  of  Bmerican  politics 

perial  Wise  Man,  and  made  the  appointment 
public  by  special  proclamation.  The  peasant  re- 
ceived his  appointment  in  a  dazed  sort  of  way, 
escaped  from  the  royal  presence  in  rather  bad 
form,  drew  his  stipend  regularly  thereafter,  but 
made  no  drafts  upon  his  occult  powers. 

One  day,  some  weeks  later,  the  King  called 
the  Wise  Man  to  his  chamber,  and  administered 
a  mild  rebuke  to  the  latter  for  his  failure  to  prog- 
nosticate, asking  him  incidentally,  what  he  sup- 
posed he  was  drawing  a  fat  salary  for. 

The  peasant  protested  that  he  could  not  meas- 
ure up  to  such  responsibility ;  that  he 
couldn't  prophesy  fifteen  minutes  ahead  on 
the  weather  or  anything  else,  and  then  and 
there  tendered  his  resignation  to  take  imme- 
diate effect. 

"  But  did  you  not  foretell  accurately  the  terri- 
ble storm  that  drenched  the  royal  party,  and 
ruined  our  trappings  and  best  clothes  ?  "  inquired 
the  King. 

"Oh,  no,  mighty  King,"  responded  the  peas- 
ant, "  it  was  not  I  who  foretold  the  storm ;  it  was 
the  jackass.  He  it  is,  who,  by  some  mysterious 
gift  of  discernment,  is  able  to  foretell  the  storm, 
and  in  token  thereof,  he  has  a  peculiar  way  of 
folding  back  his  ears.  I  merely  voiced  to  your 
Majesty  in  words,  what  my  faithful  jackass  ex- 


lUit  ano  Ibumor  of  Smcrican  politics  55 

pressed  to  me  in  his  own  picturesque  and  silent 
way. ' ' 

Whereupon  the  countryman's  resignation  was 
accepted,  the  jackass  was  duly  installed  as  Im- 
perial Wise  Man,  and  a  royal  decree  to  this  effect 
was  sent  forth. 

"  And,  would  you  believe  it?  "  observed  Presi- 
dent Lincoln,  with  a  sly  twinkle  in  his  eye,  "  as 
soon  as  that  proclamation  became  public,  every 
jackass  in  the  kingdom  wanted  an  office." 

Knew  at  Last  What  to  Say 
A  new  story  of  Lincoln  was  told  at  the  semi- 
annual dinner  of  the  Delaware  Valley  Society 
of  the  State  of  New  York.  The  author  of  the 
story  was  the  venerable  Benajat  G.  Jayne,  who, 
during  the  most  of  the  civil  war,  was  the  personal 
assistant  of  Edwin  M.  Stanton,  the  famous  War 
Secretary.  One  day  Lincoln  sent  for  Jayne  to 
come  to  the  White  House.  "  My  boy,"  said 
he,  "there  is  a  letter  I  would  like  to  have  you 
look  at."  Jayne  picked  up  the  letter  and  found 
it  was  from  General  Dix.  It  conveyed  the  in- 
formation that  several  Federal  prisoners  had  es- 
caped from  Libby  prison  with  the  aid  of  Abbie 
Green,  a  woman  famous  during  the  war.  The 
letter  also  said,  that  as  the  fact  of  Abbie's  assist- 
ance was  well-known,  she  had  been  obliged  to 


56  licw  anfc  tumor  of  amerfcan  politics 

flee  from  Richmond,  and  even  then,  was  on  her 
way  to  Washington  on  the  flag-of-truce  boat. 

"  Now,  my  boy,"  said  the  President,  "  I  don't 
know  what  I  should  say  to  any  rascal  who  would 
steal  that  letter,  and  have  a  bill  passed  through 
Congress  to  grant  $10,000  to  the  relief  of  Abbie 
Green."  Mr.  Jayne  "stole  the  letter,"  and  the 
next  day,  both  branches  of  Congress  passed  the 
bill  to  grant  $10,000  to  Abbie  Green.  The  fol- 
lowing morning,  "  Honest  Abe"  sent  for  Jayne 
again.  "  I  told  you  I  didn't  know  what  I  should 
say,"  he  said  with  a  twinkle  in  his  eye,  "to  the 
rascal  who  would  steal  that  letter,  and  have  Con- 
gress act  on  it.  Now,  I've  made  up  my  mind 

what  to  say.     You  go  down  to  No. Street, 

get  Abbie  Green,  take  her  down  to  Chase  at  the 
Treasury,  and  don't  you  let  her  go  until  she  gets 
that  money." 

A  Novel  Application 

The  following  application  of  Lincoln  for  a  rail- 
way pass  is  worth  preserving : 

"  Springfield,  Feb.  12,  1856. 
"  R.  P.  Morgan,  Esq., 

"  DEAR  SIR  :  Says  Tom  to  John,  '  Here's  your 
old  rotten  wheelbarrow.  I've  broke  it  usin'  on 
it.  I  wish  you  would  mend  it,  case  I  shall  want 
to  borrow  it  this  afternoon.' 

"  Acting  on  this  as  a  precedent,  I  say,  '  Here's 


TJCltt  an&  Ibumot  of  Bmerican  politics  57 

your  "  old  chalked  hat."  I  wish  you  would  take 
it,  and  send  me  a  new  one,  case  I  shall  want  to 
use  it  on  the  ist  of  March.' 

"  Yours  truly, 

"  A.  LINCOLN." 

The  application   is   to  the  Chicago  &  Alton 
Railway,  of  which  Lincoln  was  then  an  attorney. 


CHAPTER  III 
Daniel  Webster  at  Home 

His  Treatment  of  Servants 

It  was  one  of  the  noblest  traits  of  Daniel  Web- 
ster's character,  that  he  never  treated  the  men 
who  worked  for  him  as  menials.  For  Porter 
Wright,  who  served  him  for  many  years,  he  al- 
ways entertained  the  highest  regard.  Wright 
was  a  constant  companion  in  his  hunting  and 
fishing  excursions.  Probably  no  man  living 
knows  so  much  about  the  inner  life  of  Webster, 
of  his  habits  and  disposition  as  Mr.  Wright,  and 
it  was  from  his  lips  that  I  learned  many  of  the 
facts  I  shall  relate. 

The  old  man  was  chopping  wood  when  I 
reached  his  house,  but  on  learning  my  errand, 
replied  in  cheery  tones  : 

"Come  in,  come  in.  Ah,  yes,  Mr.  Webster 
was  a  grand  man,  and  we  will  never  see  his  like 
again.  He  left  a  gap  in  Marshfield  that  can 
never  be  filled." 

It  didn't  seem  to  occur  to  his  honest  soul  that 
the  death  of  Webster  left  a  gap  in  the  entire 
58 


and  twmor  of  Bmerican  politics  59 

nation  that  never  could  be  filled.  To  his  sim- 
ple mind,  the  public  life  of  Webster  was  a  mat- 
ter of  secondary  importance  to  Webster  as  a 
farmer,  a  fisherman,  and  a  boon  companion. 
From  him  I  learned  more  of  Webster's  home 
life,  and  of  his  character  as  a  man  than  from  all 
the  histories  and  biographies  that  have  ever  been 
written.  He  assured  me  that  a  man  of  more 
simple  habits  never  lived.  For  style  he  cared 
absolutely  nothing.  In  his  dress  about  home, 
he  could  not  be  distinguished  from  any  of  his 
farmer  or  fishermen  neighbors.  Rarely  did  he 
wear  a  collar.  An  old  slouch  hat  covered  his 
head,  and  his  trousers  were  always  tucked  in- 
side of  his  boots. 

It  was  only  when  he  removed  his  hat,  show- 
ing the  massive  proportions  of  his  brain,  that 
you  realized  that  you  were  standing  in  the  pres- 
ence of  a  mighty  genius.  When  Thorwaldsen, 
the  great  Danish  sculptor,  saw  his  bust  in  the 
studio  of  Powers,  at  Rome,  he  exclaimed : 
"  Ah  !  a  new  design  of  a  Jupiter,  I  see."  He 
could  hardly  be  persuaded  that  it  was  the  actual 
head  of  a  living  American. 

Webster's  Hospitality 

Every  man,  woman,  and  child  in  the  neigh- 
borhood had  full  run  of  Webster's  house,  from 


cellar  to  garret.  Of  children  he  was  particu- 
larly fond.  Children  who  were  strangers  to  him 
would  nestle  in  his  arms  as  readily  as  those  who 
were  familiar  with  his  features.  Whenever  a 
man  came  in,  the  first  thing  he  did  was  to  open 
the  sideboard,  take  down  the  old  decanter,  and 
pour  out  a  glass  of  brandy.  If  the  visitor  drank, 
he  was  doubly  welcome ;  if  he  refused,  Webster 
appeared  less  cordial. 


Politics  Tabooed 

"  No  human  being  could  induce  him  to  say 
a  word  about  politics  here.  It  was  a  tabooed 
subject.  If  any  one  mentioned  politics,  his 
brow  darkened  in  an  instant. 

"  Farming,  fishing,  horses,  cattle,  pigs,  and 
hens, — these  were  his  favorite  themes.  He 
knew  every  one  of  his  cattle  by  name  as  well  as 
he  knew  the  names  of  his  brother  senators.  Of 
his  garden  he  was  very  proud,  and  here  he 
would  spend  a  portion  of  each  day,  pulling 
weeds  and  hoeing  vegetables." 


Turnip  Seeds 

A  young  lawyer  of  the  village  once  came  and 
asked    Webster  what   he   had    better   study  to 


lUit  and  Dumor  of  American  politics  ei 

build  himself  up  in  his  profession.  "Turnip 
seeds,"  was  the  laconic  reply. 

The  disciple  of  Blackstone  followed  his  ad- 
vice. He  studied  up  everything  that  bore  upon 
the  subject  of  turnips,  until  he  became  a  master 
of  the  principles  of  that  vegetable.  A  year  or 
two  afterwards,  a  neighboring  farmer  originated 
a  new  turnip,  from  the  sale  of  whose  seed  he 
expected  to  make  a  fortune.  Another  neighbor 
began  to  raise  and  sell  the  same  seed,  and  a 
lawsuit  resulted.  The  originator  of  the  seed 
came  to  retain  Webster  to  prosecute  the  case. 
Webster  replied  : 

"I  am  not  as  well  booked  up  on  turnips  as  I 
ought  to  be,  but  there  is  a  young  fellow  over  at 
the  village  who  knows  all  about  them.  Go  and 
get  him.  He  will  win  your  case." 

The  farmer  posted  off  and  engaged  the  other 
man.  When  the  trial  came  off,  the  lawyer  as- 
tonished judge,  jury,  and  audience  by  his  pro- 
fount!  learning  on  the  subject  of  turnips.  The 
case  was  triumphantly  won,  and  the  young 
lawyer  started  on  the  road  to  fame  and  fortune. 

Need  of  Keeping  Accounts 
Webster's  sense  of  humor  was  infinite.     On 
one  occasion  a  man  presented  a  bill  to  him  for 
payment.     "Why,"    said    Webster,    "I    have 


62  "wait  an&  f>umor  of  Bmerican  politics 

paid  that  bill  before."  The  neighbor  assured 
him  that  he  was  mistaken.  "All  right,  then; 
call  again  in  the  morning,  and  I  will  settle  with 
you." 

As  soon  as  the  man  was  gone  Webster  called 
his  son,  Fletcher,  and  told  him  to  look  over  his 
papers  and  see  if  he  could  not  find  a  receipted 
bill.  To  the  surprise  of  both,  two  receipted 
bills  were  found,  showing  that  the  bill  had  been 
paid  twice.  Webster  put  the  receipts  in  his 
pocket  and  said  nothing. 

In  the  morning  the  neighbor  returned  for  the 
money.  Webster  took  his  seat  under  the  old 
elm,  and  ordered  Wright  to  bring  out  the  de- 
canter. Filling  the  glass  to  the  brim,  he 
handed  it  to  the  man  and  told  him  to  drink. 
Webster  then  began : 

"  Mr.  Blank,  do  you  keep  books?  " 

The  man  assured  him  that  he  did  not. 

"Then  I  would  advise  you  to  do  so,"  said 
Webster,  and  pulling  one  of  the  receipts  from 
his  pocket  handed  it  to  him. 

The  man  was  covered  with  confusion,  while 
Webster  continued : 

"And  while  you  are  about  it  you  had  better 
get  a  bookkeeper  who  understands  double  en- 
try !"  at  the  same  time  handing  him  another 
receipt.  "Now,"  said  Webster,  "  I  am  going 


tutt  and  t>umor  of  Bmerican  politics  63 

to  pay  this  bill  just  once  more ;  but  I  assure 
you,  upon  my  word  of  honor,  that  I  will  not 
pay  it  the  fourth  time  1  " 

Fisherman's  Luck 

The  one  great  pastime  that  Webster  enjoyed 
in  Marshfield  was  fishing.  For  hours  he  would 
wander  up  and  down  the  streams  and  across  the 
meadows.  As  a  rule,  however,  his  was  "  fisher- 
man's luck."  It  was  rarely  that  he  caught  a 
fish,  unless  by  its  own  carelessness,  it  became 
entangled  on  the  hook  and  couldn't  escape. 
The  fish  would  nibble  all  the  bait  from  the  hook 
without  his  ever  pulling  the  line  from  the  water. 

A  Peculiar  Habit 

When  a  little  way  ahead  or  behind,  he  was 
always  muttering  to  himself,  and  many  of  his 
grandest  speeches  were  composed  while  on  these 
excursions.  On  his  return,  he  would  always 
throw  himself  under  the  old  elm  tree  in  the 
dooryard  and  enjoy  a  short  nap  while  resting 
from  his  fatigue. 

Christening  the  Plow 

On  my  rising  to  leave  the  house,  Mr.  Wright 
placed  his  hands  upon  my  shoulders  and  said  : 


64  lUit  an£>  twmor  of  American  politics 

11  Would  you  like  a  story  that  has  never  be- 
fore appeared  in  print?  " 

I  assured  him  that  nothing  would  please  me 
better. 

"Well,  I  have  told  you  that  Mr.  Webster 
would  never  speak  on  politics  when  here,  but  he 
would  talk  to  the  assembled  neighbors  and 
guests  on  matters  pertaining  to  farming.  On 
one  occasion,  some  Boston  friends  presented 
him  with  an  enormous  plough  to  use  on  his 
farm.  Webster  gave  out  word  that  on  a  certain 
day  it  would  be  christened.  The  day  arrived, 
and  the  farmers,  for  miles  around  came  to  wit- 
ness the  event.  A  dozen  teams  with  aristocratic 
occupants  came  down  from  Boston.  It  was  ex- 
pected by  every  one  that  Webster  would  make 
a  great  speech  on  the  occasion,  reviewing  the 
history  of  farming  back  to  the  time  when  Cin- 
cinnatus  abdicated  the  most  mighty  throne  in 
the  world  to  cultivate  cabbages  in  his  Roman 
garden. 

"The  plough  was  brought  out,  and  ten  yoke 
of  splendid  oxen  were  hitched  in  front.  More 
than  two  hundred  people  stood  around  on  tiptoe 
of  expectation.  Webster  soon  made  his  appear- 
ance. He  had  been  calling  spirits  from  the 
vasty  deep,  and  his  gait  was  somewhat  uncer- 
tain. Seizing  the  plough  handles  and  spreading 


lUit  ano  Dumoc  of  Hmcrican  politics  66 

his  feet,  he  yelled  to  me  in  his  deep  bass 
voice : 

' ' '  Are  you  ready,  Wright  ? ' 

"'All  ready,  Mr.  Webster,'  was  the  reply, 
meaning  of  course  for  the  speech. 

"  Webster  straightened  himself  up  by  a 
mighty  effort  and  shouted : 

"'Then  let  her  rip  ! ' 

"The  whole  crowd  dropped  to  the  ground 
and  roared  with  laughter,  while  Webster,  with 
his  big  plough,  proceeded  to  rip  up  the  soil. 
This  same  plough  can  now  be  seen  on  top  of  the 
Faneuil  Hall  market,  in  Boston,  and  is  a  con- 
spicuous object  for  miles  around." 

A  Little  Souvenir 

"  Would  you  like  to  have  a  little  souvenir  of 
your  visit  to  Webster's  home?"  asked  Mr. 
Wright,  as  the  writer  was  about  to  leave. 
"  Here,  come  with  me,  and  I  will  give  you 
something.  Look  in  this  old  trunk  and  see  this 
pile  of  letters  that  he  wrote  to  me  from  Wash- 
ington. I  treasure  them  very  highly,  but  you 
shall  have  one.  Take  your  pick." 

Here  was  a  find,  indeed.  I  rummaged  the 
letters  over,  and  finally  selected  one  that  I  con- 
sidered most  characteristic  of  the  man.  It  was 
about  farming  and  cattle.  It  also  puts  a  new 


66  "CCM  and  Ibumor  of  Bmcrican  politics 

light  on  his  character  as  a  debtor.  It  is  well 
known  that  he  was  a  poor  financier,  and  the 
great  public  believes  that  he  didn't  want  to  pay 
his  debts ;  that  he  had  no  desire  to  do  so.  This 
letter,  written  from  the  Senate  chamber,  shows 
conclusively  that  he  was  willing  to  sell  anything 
to  pay  debts.  For  this  reason  it  is  a  letter  of 
great  historical  value.  It  corrects  public  mis- 
conception of  his  character.  It  read  as  follows  : 

"Washington,  Feb.  2d,  '58. 

"PORTER  WRIGHT: — Mr.  Weston  will  hand 
you  $100,  and  I  will  try  to  send  you  some  more 
soon. 

"I  have  no  objection  to  parting  with  the 
Ames  steers,  or  the  Hazeltine,  or  both,  for 
money  to  pay  debts,  at  a  fair  price ;  but  I  do 
not  care  about  exchanging  with  Mr.  Delano. 
The  offer  you  have  made  ($15)  is  enough — I 
would  not  give  any  more.  Mr.  Ames  may  take 
the  Brown  oxen — indeed,  I  would  sell  almost 
anything  to  pay  debts.  But  everything  seems 
low. 

"If  you  do  not  trade  with  Mr.  Delano,  we 
will  fatten  the  mountaineers,  and  look  up 
something  else  for  beef,  next  month,  when  I 
come  home.  If  we  keep  the  white-faced  oxen, 
the  black  and  red  steers,  the  large  Durham 
steers,  and  the  jumpers,  we  shall  do  pretty  well 
for  teams,  though  another  pair  for  Fletcher's 
barn  might  be  useful.  The  Locke  oxen,  per- 
haps, might  go  there. 


limit  anJ>  tmmor  of  Bmerican  politics  67 

"  I  have  written  Mr.  Stevens,  of  the  Revere 
House,  about  the  potatoes.  He  will  write  for 
what  he  wants.  I  will  take  Mr.  Sampson's. 
How  is  it  about  ice  ? 

"  Please  write  me  once  a  week. 
"Yrs., 

"DANIEL  WEBSTER." 


CHAPTER  IV 

Lessons  in  Politics 

No  Chance  , 

Senator  Beveridge  once  had  an  excellent  op- 
portunity to  show  a  young  aspirant  for  office  the 
difference  between  the  politician  of  the  old 
school,  and  the  politician  of  the  modern  school. 
He  was  seated  in  his  room  in  the  Denison  Hotel 
one  night  about  ten  o'clock  chatting  with  a 
newspaper  man,  when  suddenly  the  door-bell 
rang.  With  that  cheery  manner  that  has  helped 
to  make  him  famous,  the  Senator  called  out, 
"  Come  in."  The  visitor  proved  to  be  a  young 
man  of  average  physical  appearance,  and  of 
fairly  pleasing  personality.  Senator  Beveridge, 
as  all  his  acquaintances  know  very  well,  has  a 
peculiar  way  of  getting  his  callers  to  plunge  at 
once  into  the  subject  of  their  visit  without 
letting  them  perceive  that  they  are  being  urged 
to  do  so. 

"  I  came  to  talk  to  you  about  an  appointment 
for  myself,"  said  the  young  man. 

"Very  well,"  replied  the  Senator,   "I  shall 
be  glad  to  hear  what  you  have  to  say. ' ' 
68 


"Wait  an£>  twmor  of  Bmerican  politics  69 

Without  offering  to  show  that  he  possessed 
any  peculiar  fitness  for  a  position,  the  young 
man  said:  "I  want  to  know  what  chancel 
would  stand  of  being  appointed  to  a  consulate, 
if  I  could  succeed  in  getting  the  indorsement  of 
all  the  prominent  politicians  of  the  State." 

"  Do  you  want  me  to  be  perfectly  frank  with 
you  ?  "  inquired  the  Senator. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  answered  the  young  man. 

' '  Well,  then,  you  would  not  stand  the  least 
chance  in  the  world,"  was  the  Senator's  rather 
surprising  reply. 

"Might  I  ask  you  the  reason  why?"  asked 
the  disappointed  aspirant  for  office. 

"Well,  now,  I  will  explain  it  to  you,"  said 
the  Senator  kindly.  "  It  is  just  the  difference 
between  a  politician  of  the  old  school  and  a  poli- 
tician of  the  modern  school.  Twenty  years  ago,  if 
you  had  asked  your  question  of  a  politician,  he 
would  probably  have  smiled  encouragingly  and 
said  :  '  Why,  yes,  you  certainly  ought  to  stand  an 
excellent  chance  of  securing  the  appointment  if 
you  can  obtain  that  kind  of  indorsement.'  And 
all  the  time  he  would  be  diplomatically  deceiv- 
ing you.  He  would  know  perfectly  well  that 
you  could  not  get  the  appointment  in  a  thousand 
years,  but  his  way  of  doing  business  was  to  try 
to  avoid  hurting  people's  feelings,  even  by  con- 


70  mitt  and  tumor  of  Bmerican  politics 

cealing  the  truth  from  them.  You  come  to  a 
politician  of  the  modern  school,  however,  and 
ask  him :  '  What  chance  will  I  stand  of  getting  a 
certain  position  if  I  have  such  and  such  indorse- 
ment ? '  He  replies  promptly,  without  equivoca- 
tion, and  yet  with  more  real  kindness  than  was 
shown  by  the  old-school  politician  :  '  You  will 
stand  no  chance  at  all.'  You  want  to  know  the 
reason  for  this,  and  here,  again,  you  see  the 
difference  between  the  two  methods.  The 
modern  politician  talks  to  you  after  this  fashion : 
'My  friend,  you  have,  in  the  first  place,  not 
made  the  slightest  showing  of  fitness  for  the  po- 
sition you  ask  at  my  hands.  Instead  of  that,  you 
base  your  claim  solely  on  the  amount  of  influence 
you  may  be  able  to  bring  to  bear  on  the  appoint- 
ing powers.  Again,  let  me  ask  you,  what  have 
you  done  for  your  party,  that  you  expect  to  be 
given  this  appointment  in  preference  to  scores  of 
others  who  have  toiled  and  sweated  in  the 
trenches,  and  who  are  clamoring  for  their  re- 
ward ? '  When  applicants  for  public  office  are 
of  equal  qualifications  or  fitness,  and  one  has 
worked  zealously  for  the  success  of  the  party 
that  is  in  power,  while  the  other  has  stood  idly 
by  and  allowed  things  to  drift  along  in  their 
own  way,  the  politician  who  has  the  appointing 
power  will  undoubtedly,  and  justly,  too,  give 


TiUit  and  Dumor  of  Bmertcan  politics  n 

preference  to  the  man  who  has  done  the  work. 
Thus,  you  see,  my  young  friend,  the  reason 
why  you  would  stand  no  show  of  getting  the 
consulate  you  covet.  You  have  had  a  plain, 
unequivocal  answer,  and  I  think  when  you  have 
pondered  what  I  have,  told  you,  you  will  see 
that  the  modern  is  the  better  way,  after  all." 

Decided  It  His  Way 

Another  interesting  phase  of  Senator  Bever- 
idge's  character  was  witnessed  by  a  man  who 
happened  to  be  in  the  junior  Senator's  office 
one  day  recently  when  he  was  busily  engaged  in 
hearing  the  pleas  of  delegations  from  various 
parts  of  the  State  that  were  desirous  of  having 
certain  men  appointed  postmasters  in  their  re- 
spective towns  or  cities.  It  is  well  known  that 
many  high  officials  worry  themselves  almost  sick 
over  the  question  of  what  particular  man,  out  of 
the  scores  of  applicants  for  position,  shall  be 
favored  with  the  "plum."  Governor  Mount 
might,  it  is  believed,  have  lived  some  years 
longer  than  he  did,  had  he  not  allowed  himself 
to  be  harassed  by  office-seekers  and  their 
myriads  of  well-meaning  friends  during  his 
irtcumbency  of  the  gubernatorial  office.  Senator 
Beveridge  evidently  does  not  intend  to  die  by 
the  "office-seeker"  method.  He  has  an  en- 


72  trait  anfc  tnimor  of  Bmertcan  politics 

tirely  unique  and  decidedly  interesting  way  of 
settling  the  appointment  question.  Instead  of 
worrying  and  fretting  himself  into  a  state  of 
nervous  prostration  or  something  akin  to  that 
malady,  he  simply  lets  "  the  other  fellows"  do 
the  worrying.  During  the  period  previously 
mentioned,  the  Senator  was  seated  in  his  office 
one  day,  awaiting  the  coming  of  a  fresh  delega- 
tion to  replace  the  one  which  he  had  just  dis-- 
persed.  He  had  not  long  to  wait.  The  dele- 
gation came,  and  it  was  of  considerable  size. 
Worse  still,  the  members  hailed  from  a  locality 
in  which  was  waging  one  of  the  most  vexatious 
post-office  "fights"  that  either  of  the  United 
States  Senators  has  thus  far  been  called  on  to 
settle.  Everybody  connected  with  the  matter 
had  begun  to  acquire  gray  hairs,  except  Senator 
Beveridge.  His  mind,  to  all  intents  and  pur- 
poses, was  free  from  care.  As  soon  as  the  dele- 
gation took  seats  in  the  office,  the  leader  began 
his  plea  for  the  appointment  of  the  man  in 
whose  interest  he  and  his  associates  were  work- 
ing. The  Senator  listened  intently  to  all  the 
man  had  to  say,  and  then  remarked  suavely,  "I 
am  going  to  decide  this  matter  your  way." 

The  man  could  scarcely  believe  his  ears.  "  I 
hardly  know  how  to  thank  you,  Senator,"  he 
ejaculated,  a  smile  spreading  over  his  entire  face. 


"Watt  an&  Inimor  ot  Bmerican  politics  73 

"  Yes,"  continued  Senator  Beveridge,  "  I  am 
going  to  submit  this  case  to  you  and  let  you 
decide  it.  I  want  you  to  consider  yourself  in 
the  position  of  a  trustee  for  the  people,  and  I 
want  you  to  hear  the  facts  on  both  sides,  and 
then  render  judgment  according  to  the  political 
rules  and  principles  that  govern  these  matters." 

Thereupon,  the  Senator  proceeded  to  state 
the  facts  bearing  on  one  phase  of  the  case,  and 
when  he  had  finished,  asked  the  man  if  he  had 
stated  them  correctly.  "I  guess  you  have, 
Senator,"  he  replied. 

Next,  the  Senator  started  another  set  of  facts 
bearing  on  the  case,  and  upon  asking  the  man's 
opinion  was  informed  that  he  had  put  the 
matter  in  the  right  light.  The  whole  situation 
in  the  locality  of  the  post-office  contest  was  thus 
gone  over,  and  when  the  Senator  was  through 
he  said,  "  Now,  what  is  your  decision  ?  " 

"Oh,  hang  it  all,"  said  the  man,  as  he 
began  to  pace  nervously  up  and  down  the 
office,  "if  you  are  going  to  put  it  that  way,  I 
suppose  I  will  have  to  say  the  other  fellow 
ought  to  have  the  office." 

"Very  well,"  said  the  Senator,  amid  a  shout 
of  laughter  from  those  assembled  in  the  room, 
"  it  shall  be  as  you  say.  I  shall  decide  the  case 
your  way." 


CHAPTER  V 

Three  Political  Episodes 

Loved  to  Look  into  Their  Honest  Faces 

"  DURING  the  Elaine  campaign  in  1884,  Han- 
nibal Hamlin  made  a  few  speeches  in  Ohio,  and 
when  he  came  to  Cleveland,  I  invited  him  out 
to  my  home,"  says  an  old-timer.  "He  was  in 
a  pleasant  mood,  and  told  a  number  of  funny 
stories,  one  of  which  I  recall.  In  1852,  when 
he  was  a  Democrat,  he  was  announced  to 
address  a  Democratic  meeting  with  James 
Buchanan,  at  Lancaster,  Pa.  Simon  Cameron 
presided.  The  meeting  was  held  in  a  large 
hall  from  which  all  the  seats  had  been  removed. 
The  hall  was  packed  to  the  door  by  men 
standing  up.  Hamlin  was  the  first  speaker, 
and  for  an  hour  or  more  he  held  the  undivided 
attention  of  the  big  audience. 

"  While  he  was  talking,  several  persons  in  the 
back  part  of  the  hall  had  been  relieved  of  their 
pocketbooks.  The  sergeant  of  police,  who  was 
in  the  hall,  worked  his  way  through  the  crowd 
to  the  stage,  and  whispered  to  Cameron  a 
74 


an&  tmmor  of  Hmcrtcan  politics  75 

request  to  announce  that  there  were  pickpockets 
in  the  hall,  and  that  the  people  should  be 
on  the  alert  to  protect  themselves.  Cameron 
intended  to  make  the  announcement  at  the 
close  of  Hamlin's  speech,  but  in  the  applause 
that  followed,  he  forgot  it.  When  quiet  was 
restored,  he  introduced  Buchanan  to  the  audi- 
ence as  their  distinguished  fellow-citizen.  Bu- 
chanan got  up,  and  surveying  the  crowd  of  his 
old  neighbors,  began  : 

"  'I  assure  you,  my  fellow-citizens,  that  it  is 
indeed  a  pleasure  to  return  to  my  old  home 
and  meet  you  again.  I  like  to  look  into  the 
honest  faces  of  the  people  of  Lancaster.  A 
more  honest  people  does  not  exist  in  this  dear 
old  country ' 

"  Cameron  just  here  thought  of  what  he 
had  forgotten,  and,  interrupting  Buchanan, 
said  : 

"'I  am  requested  by  the  sergeant  of  police 
to  state  that  there  are  pickpockets  in  the  hall, 
that  several  persons  in  the  audience  have  had 
their  pocketbooks  stolen,  and  to  ask  you  to  be 
on  the  watch  to  intercept  the  guilty  ones.' 

'"Of  course,'  said  Hamlin  in  relating  the 
story  to  me,  'there  was  great  laughter,  but 
Buchanan  passed  it  off  casually  and  went  on 
with  his  speech.'  " 


76  "unit  an£>  feumor  of  Bmerican  ipolttfcs 

They  Wouldn't  Believe  It 

Lew  Barker  was  without  question  the  best 
political  orator  that  ever  lived  in  Maine. 

In  the  Democratic  convention  of  1862,  a 
resolution  sustaining  the  war  was  laid  on  the 
table.  Barker  was  a  fierce  Union  man,  and, 
although  he  had  always  been  an  uncompro- 
mising Democrat,  he  picked  up  his  hat  and  left 
the  convention  hall,  and  never  again  affiliated 
with  that  party. 

A  short  time  afterwards,  he  addressed  a 
Republican  meeting  up  in  Androscoggin 
County,  and  among  his  listeners  was  an  old 
close-communion  Baptist  minister  by  the  name 
of  Burbank.  Barker  was  a  very  profane  man, 
and  his  speeches  were  few  in  which  he  did  not 
work  in  an  oath  or  two.  Burbank  was  an 
intense  Union  man,  and  he  was  pleased  to  hear 
that  the  Republican  ranks  had  obtained  such  an 
accession  as  Barker.  He  called  on  Barker 
in  his  room  at  the  village  hotel  the  next 
morning. 

"  I  want  to  congratulate  you,"  he  said,  "  upon 
the  noble  stand  you  have  taken  in  this  cause. 
You  have  been  favored  with  an  excellent  com- 
mand of  language,  and  you  are  in  a  position  to 
do  a  power  of  good.  There  is  only  one  fault  I 
would  find  with  your  speech  of  last  night,  and 


anO  t)umor  ot  Smerican  politics  77 

that  is,  that  once  or  twice  you  used  expressions 
that  bordered  upon  the  profane.  Now,  you 
know  that  the  people  about  here  pride  them- 
selves upon  their  religious  breeding  and  the 
championing  of  only  those  things  that  are  good. 
If  you  will  only  moderate  your  talk  in  such  in- 
stances, what  you  say  will  have  a  vast  in- 
fluence." 

Barker  looked  at  him  a  minute,  and  then  re- 
plied :  "  You  are  right  as  far  as  you  go, 
Elder  Burbank,  but  I  want  to  say  that  if  I  were 
to  come  up  here,  and  tell  the  people  that  I  had 
been  a  Democrat  all  my  life  and  did  not  swear, 
they  would  think  it  was  a  lie." 


Had  Something  on  His  Mind 

"  Tom  Ochiltree,  the  great  story-teller,  knows 
one  yarn  that  he  is  not  disposed  to  repeat,"  re- 
marked Mr.  Frank  B.  Read,  of  Dallas,  Tex.,  at 
the  St.  James  last  evening.  "  In  an  unguarded 
moment,  Tom  told  it  to  me,  and  it's  good,  and 
I  don't  mind  giving  it  to  you.  It  was  this  way : 
After  the  war  a  warm  friendship  sprang  up 
between  General  Grant  and  Tom  Ochiltree,  al- 
though they  had  fought  on  opposite  sides. 
When  Grant  appointed  a  large  number  of  people 
who  had  been  under  him  to  Federal  offices, 


78  "Wait  an&  twmor  of  Bmetican  politics 

he  also  appointed  Ochiltree — Tom  had  been 
'  under  him, '  in  a  sense.  Tom  was  made 
United  States  Marshal  in  Texas. 

"Well,  you  know,  in  those  days  Tom  took  a 
very  deep  interest  in  the  ponies,  and  was  a  sort 
of  patron  saint  of  racing  in  the  new  Southwest. 
He  was  so  much  admired  by  horsemen  gener- 
ally, that  it  became  quite  the  thing  for  owners 
to  name  their  horses  after  him.  At  one  time, 
there  were  not  less  than  a  dozen  horses  running 
under  the  name  of  '  Tom  Ochiltree. ' 

"  Everything  went  lovely  until  Tom  came  up 
to  Washington,  several  months  after  assuming 
his  new  duties.  In  the  course  of  his  visit 
he  called  at  the  White  House  for  a  conference 
with  the  President.  After  talking  generalities 
for  a  while,  Tom  noticed  that  the  President 
seemed  to  have  something  on  his  mind  ;  didn't 
appear  to  be  as  frank  and  cordial  as  usual.  He 
finally  asked  General  Grant  what  the  trouble 
was,  hinting  that  the  Chief  Executive  might  not 
be  satisfied  with  the  manner  in  which  the  mar- 
shal's office  was  being  conducted. 

"'Well,  I'll  tell  you,'  said  the  President,  'I 
don't  like  the  way  you've  been  running  about 
the  country,  following  the  races.  I  see  by  the 
sporting  columns  of  the  papers  that  first  you  are 
in  Louisville,  then  you're  in  New  York,  next 


an£>  tumor  of  Smertcan  politics  79 

you're  in  Saratoga,  and  next  somewhere  out 
West.  I  would  rather  you  stayed  at  home  and 
looked  after  your  office.'  " 


CHAPTER  VI 

Hand-shaking  as  a  Fine  Art 

Dr.   Unlucky 

ONE  of  the  President's  duties  which  lias  its 
painful  side  is  the  almost  interminable  hand- 
shaking which  accompanies  a  presidential  recep- 
tion. Beside  the  physical  exertion  required,  the 
monotony  of  the  thing  must  be  wearisome  al- 
most beyond  endurance,  unless  it  is  broken,  as 
no  doubt  it  often  is,  by  some  amusing  incident. 

When  Mr.  Cleveland  was  at  Weldon,  N.  C., 
during  his  first  term,  says  the  Youth's  Com- 
panion, a  great  crowd  shook  hands  with  him. 
In  the  middle  of  the  line  was  a  long,  lank 
countryman,  who  took  the  greatest  interest  in 
the  scene. 

At  length  he  reached  the  President  and 
grasped  him  warmly  by  the  hand. 

"Well,"  said  he,  "so  you  are  the  Presi- 
dent?" 

"Yes,"  replied  Mr.  Cleveland,  "I  am  the 
President." 

"Well,"  continued  the  old  fellow,  shaking 
Mr.  Cleveland's  hand  like  a  pump-handle, 
80 


lUit  and  tmmcr  of  Bmerican  Politics  81 

"  I've  voted  for  many  a  President  in  my  time, 
but  I  never  seed  one  before."  He  paused  a 
moment,  and  looking  the  President  up  and 
down,  and  from  one  side  to  the  other,  he  ex- 
claimed : 

"  Well,  you  are  a  whopper  !  " 

The  President  smiled  and  the  crowd  laughed. 

At  another  time  Mr.  Cleveland  was  receiving 
a  delegation  of  teachers  at  the  White  House. 

"Dr.  Lucky  of  Pittsburg,"  said  the  intro- 
ducer, as  the  gentleman  stepped  forward  to 
shake  hands. 

It  had  been  intended  that  the  other  teachers 
should  follow  in  turn,  but  somehow  a  dilapi- 
dated looking  old  tramp  had  slipped  into  the 
line  just  behind  Dr.  Lucky.  As  he  shuffled  up 
to  the  President  there  was  a  pause.  Nobody 
knew  his  name,  and  even  the  tramp  seemed  to 
feel  embarrassed. 

The  President  mended  the  difficulty.  He 
extended  his  hand,  and  with  more  than  his 
usual  cordiality  said,  in  an  encouraging  tone : 

"How  are  you,  my  friend?  Your  name  is 
Dr.  Unlucky,  I  presume." 

The  old  tramp's  face  relaxed  into  a  smile. 

Didn't  Wish  to  Be  Thrown  Out 
John  Wanamaker's  recent  act  in  ordering  out 


82  TOM  and  tmmor  ot  Bmerican  politics 

of  his  office  two  local  politicians  who  tried  to  bull- 
doze him  led  the  former  Governor  of  one  of  the 
Western  States  to  tell  a  story. 

"I  almost  believe,"  he  said,  "that  Mr. 
VVanamaker  could  have  gotten  them  out  as  well 
by  giving  each  of  them  one  of  his  official  hand- 
shakes. When  he  was  Postmaster-General  I 
was  in  Congress,  and  went  to  see  him  a  great 
many  times ;  in  fact  he  had  more  calls  than  any 
other  member  of  the  Cabinet  of  the  Harrison 
Administration.  The  way  he  received  every- 
body was  most  satisfactory,  but  the  thing  that 
delighted  me  was  the  beautiful  manner  in  which 
he  got  rid  of  a  visitor.  His  farewell  hand-shake 
was  courtesy  and  geniality  itself,  but  at  the  same 
time  it  was  a  gentle  push  towards  the  door.  It 
was  done  in  such  a  manner  that  nobody  could 
possibly  take  exception  to  it.  A  while  after- 
wards I  became  Governor  of  my  State.  I  had 
seen  the  thing  worked  so  well  in  the  Postmaster- 
General's  office  I  thought  I  would  try  it.  Of 
course,  you  know,  when  the  Legislature  meets, 
the  Governor  of  a  State  has  quite  a  few  people 
to  handle.  I  practiced  a  little  on  my  wife,  and 
thought  I  had  got  the  hang  of  the  performance, 
although  she  expressed  her  doubts.  The  day 
when  I  tried  the  experiment  I  began  on  an  old 
political  supporter,  grasping  his  hand  firmly, 


tutt  and  t)umor  of  Bmertcan  politics  83 

and  with  my  best  smile,  I  gave  him  the  gentle 
push.  But  the  results  were  not  altogether  what 
I  had  hoped.  He  gazed  at  me  steadily  for  a 
moment  and  then  said  :  '  It's  all  right,  Gov- 
ernor, if  you  want  me  to  go,  but  I  don't  want 
to  be  thrown  out.' 

"  '  Come  back  here,'  I  exclaimed,  and  grabbed 
his  hand  in  the  old  way,  and  gave  him  a  pull 
towards  me.  Then,  in  order  to  remove  any  other 
doubts  he  may  have  had,  I  made  him  promise 
to  take  dinner  that  day  at  the  Executive  Man- 
sion. It  was  the  first  and  last  time  I  tried  the 
Wanamaker  hand-shake.  He  can  do  it,  but  I 
don't  believe  there  is  anybody  else  in  the  world 
who  has  the  subtle  genius  necessary  to  perform 
it  successfully." 

Lament  of  the  Fourth-Class  Postmaster 
I'd  rather  shovel  sulphur  down  in  Tophet  for  a  spell, 
I'd  rather  tend  a  furnace  in  the  southeast  end  of— well, 
I'm  a  deacon  in  the  vestry  class  and  p'raps  I'll  stop  at 

that, 

But  I'm  pretty  mighty  tired  of  the  job  that  I  am  at. 
I'm  at  work  for  Uncle  Sam 
Lickin'  stamps  and  sayin'  dam — 

Aging  things  about  the  bus'ness — I'll  confess  it,  yes  1  am. 
For  I  hadn't  no  idee 
What  a  pesky  thing  'twould  be 
To  run  a  country  office  so's  to  keep  'em  pleased  with 


84  TTCUt  anfr  Tbumcr  of  Bmerican  politics 

The  stage,  you  see,  comes  trundlin'  in  'bout  nine  o'clock 

at  night ; 
Then  so's  to  catch  the  early  train,  the   driver  leaves 

'fore  light, 

And  so  I  have  to  sit  and  wait  and  go  without  my  rest 
To  shift  the  mail  that's  coming  East,  and  send  it  kitin' 

West. 
And  daytimes,  all  the  farmers  round,  they  get  as  mad  as 

sin 

If  any  time  they  happen  round  and  cannot  find  me  in. 
I  calculate  from  what  they  say  that  ev'ry  critter  feels 
I  ought  to  stay  there  days  and   nights  and  go  without 

my  meals. 

I  cannot  be  a  lark  by  day  and  be  an  owl  at  night, 
And  blamed  if  I  can  take  a  stone  and  dull  my  appetite. 
For  all  the  stuff  a  man  would  earn  a-stayin'  there  a  year 
Would  hardly  fat  a  wad  enough  to  stuff  a  monkey's  ear. 

They  think   I  read  the  postal  cards, — if  secrets  trickle 

out 
They  think  that  I'm  the  guilty  one,  and  flail  me  hot  and 

stout. 
And  if  a  letter  doesn't  come  as  quick's  they  think  it 

ought, 
They  intimate  I've  eaten    it,  with    loud    and   scornful 

snort ; 
And  judging  from  the  way  they  say,  "  Now  won't  you 

look  again  ?  " 
And  keep  me  nosin',  peekin'  round  inside  that  office 

pen, 
They  think  that  I  distribute  mail  with  eyes  bunged  up, 

or  that 
I  cuff  it  up,  and  fan  it  round  that  office  with  a  bat. 


Trait  an£>  fnimor  ot  Bmertcan  politics  85 

Oh,  I  want  to  dump  the  office ;  oh,  I'm  achin'  to  resign, 
But  there  ain't  a  man  will  take  it,  and  I  guess  it's  safely 

mine. 
I  was  thinkin'  I  would  drop  it — shut'er  up — get  out — 

get  rid  — 

I  was  askin'  the  inspector  what  would  happen  if  I  did, 
And  he  said  they'd  come  and  nab  me,  lock  me  up  and 

let  me  lie, 

And  quite  prob'ly  I   would  stay  there  till  my  time  ar- 
rived to  die. 

But  I've  just  about  concluded  that  I'd  rather  stay  in  jail, 
Than  be  sassed  and  jawed  and   sworn  at  by  the  folks 

who  come  for  mail. 
I'm  at  work  for  Uncle  Sam, 
And  a  man  must  be  a  lamb 
For  tu  run  a  fourth-class  office  without  getting  so's  to 

dam  — 

Age  his  soul  beyond  repair, 
For  the  things  I  have  to  bear 
Are   tough   enough,  by   Judy,  for   to   make   a   deacon 

swear. 


CHAPTER  VII 
Mixed  Metaphors 

The  Olive  Branch 

AT  a  general  election,  a  candidate  startled  his 
sympathizers  and  made  his  opponents  smile  by 
saying,  ore  rotunda,  "  We  have  held  out  the  olive 
branch,  but  our  opponents  have  hurled  it  back  in 
our  face.  This  olive  branch  has  now  become  a 
consuming  fire  and  a  besom  of  destruction, 
before  which  they  will  be  swept  away  as  chaff 
before  the  wind." 

This  "  confusion  of  metaphors  "  was,  however, 
quite  eclipsed  by  an  eloquent  candidate  who,  in 
speaking  of  a  certain  eminent  statesman,  said  : 
"  His  smooth  tongue  is  that  of  a  serpent  which 
lures  but  to  destroy,  and  which  holds  out  sugar- 
plums in  one  hand  while  in  the  other  it  holds  an 
unsheathed  dagger  behind  its  back." 

A  Lion  on  Wheels 

The  politician  who  magnanimously  declared 
that  he  "  would  not  repeat  what  he  was  going 
to  say,"  and  the  gentleman  who  referred  to  cer- 
tain officials  as  "  iron-bound  in  red  tape,"  were 
86 


and  Ibumor  of  Bmerfcan  politics  87 

quite  rivalled  by  a  ready  candidate  who  said, 
"Let  this  be  our  sheet-anchor;  let  us  wear  it 
proudly  and  loyally ;  and  if  our  enemies  scoff, 
let  us  push  it  down  their  recreant  throats." 

Speaking  of  the  "car  of  progress"  one  en- 
thusiastic candidate  said  in  glowing  words,  "  I 
can  see  it  floating  before  my  gaze.  It  is  rolling 
along  in  stately  majesty,  sweeping  aside  all  ob- 
stacles with  its  powerful  right  arm,  and  touching 
the  stars  with  its  soaring  pinions." 

The  Footprints  of  an  Unseen  Hand 
The  embryo  member  who  said,  "All  along 
the  untrodden  paths  of  the  past  we  discern  the 
footprints  of  an  unseen  hand,"  had  no  unworthy 
successor  in  the  candidate  who  declared,  "  We 
are  now  entering  on  a  new  and  untrodden  path ; 
but  we  shall  be  guided  by  the  footprints  of  the 
great  men  who  have  gone  before  us." 

How  Maude  Voted 

Maude  Muller  rose  on  election  morn 
As  proud  as  a  kid  with  a  new  tin  horn, 

For  she  was  to  cast  a  vote,  and  she 
Was  filled  with  angelic  ecstasy  ! 

She  felt  that  men  were  common  clay 
As  she,  on  that  glorious  woman's  day  1 


88  TKIlit  an&  tumor  of  Smerican  politics 

That  she  was  the  equal  before  the  law 
Of  any  old  hemale  she  ever  saw ! 

She  could  almost  feel  the  dress  of  the  hims 
In  tubular  form  on  her  nether  1 bs  ! 

She  dressed  herself  with  unusual  care 
From  her  dainty  feet  to  her  fluffy  hair. 

In  a  party  carriage  she  would  not  ride ; 
She'd  walk  to  the  polls  in  her  mannish  pride  ! 

She  started  forth  with  a  dashing  swing 
As  gay  as  a  jaybird  on  the  wing. 

A  milliner's  window  caught  her  eye. 

And  you  know  she  could  never  pass  that  by ! 

Stepped  into  the  waiting  spider's  net 
To  try  on  a  hat ;  it  was  early  yet. 

She  spent  an  hour  'mid  the  fairy  show, 
Then  happened  to  think  she  had  better  go. 

Some  gowns  in  a  window  lay  in  wait 
For  girls  who  would  bite  at  such  a  bait. 

She  glued  her  nose  to  the  polished  pane 
And  studied  the  styles  again  and  again. 

She  wondered  how  she  would  look  if  she 
Were  dressed  in  such  dreams  of  finery  ! 

She  entered  the  store,  and  for  half  the  day 
Inspected  the  goods  in  a  crazy  way ! 


TKfltt  anfc  twmor  of  American  politics  89 

As  the  day  was  waning  she  stood  before 
The  flashing  gems  in  a  jewelry  store. 

Passed  on  to  a  window  filled  with  hose 
And  nighties  and  other  sacred  clothes ! 

Went  into  an  ice  cream  joint  to  get 
A  plate  or  two  of  the  frozen  wet. 

She  met  a  friend  on  the  street,  and  they 
Swapped  talk  till  an  hour  had  passed  away. 

Then  again  she  hastened  in  graceful  flight 
To  make  a  shy  at  her  sacred  right. 

But  alas  !  as  you  no  doubt  have  supposed 
She  found  that  the  mean  old  polls  had  closed! 

They  might  have  known,  the  condemned  old  set 
Of  men,  that  she  hadn't  voted  yet ! 

They  did  it  on  purpose  !     It  wasn't  fair ! 

They  were  perfectly  horrid  old  things !    So  there  I 


CHAPTER  VIII 
"  Teddy"  as  a  Humorist 

It  Wouldn't  Do 

PRESIDENT  ROOSEVELT  possesses  a  character- 
istic sense  of  humor.  It  is  vigorous  and  some- 
times almost  grotesque. 

When  he  was  Assistant  Secretary  of  the  Navy 
during  the  preparation  for  the  Spanish  war,  the 
Government  was  buying  a  number  of  yachts  to 
be  converted  into  torpedo-boats,  dispatch-boats, 
scouts,  etc.  Considerable  intimacy  existed  be- 
tween the  family  of  President  Roosevelt  and  that 
of  one  of  the  officers  of  the  Navy  in  the  Depart- 
ment. The  wife  of  this  officer  got  a  fancy  she 
would  like  to  have  one  of  these  beautiful  little 
boats  bear  her  name.  There  is  a  prejudice  in 
the  Navy  against  giving  a  woman's  name  to  a 
war-vessel  of  any  type.  It  is  believed  to  be  un- 
lucky. But  the  officer,  who  found  it  easier  to 
face  official  prejudice  than  to  resist  the  importu- 
nities of  his  better  half,  made  the  request  to  Mr. 
Roosevelt. 

The  Assistant  Secretary  of  the  Navy  hesitated. 

"It  won't  do,"  he  said.  "I  would  like  to 
90 


TKlit  and  twmor  of  Bmerican  politics  91 

gratify  your  wife,  but  a  woman's  name  won't 
do." 

Then  a  thought  occurred  to  him,  and  he  re- 
lented. "I  will  fix  it,"  he  said.  "Tell  your 
wife  it  will  be  all  right." 

The  next  day  the  boat  was  named :  The 
Vixen. 

"  I  am  going  to  put  you  in  command  of  her," 
said  Mr.  Roosevelt  when  he  announced  the 
name. 


Still  in  Office 

Shortly  after  Mr.  Roosevelt  entered  the  White 
House  a  politician  called  upon  him  with  refer- 
ence to  appointments.  After  the  preliminary 
expressions  of  high  esteem,  unbounded  admira- 
tion, and  eternal  loyalty,  the  politician  began  to 
disclose  his  business. 

"I  want  to  speak  to  you  about  Mr.  Blank, 
who  holds  a  small  office  down  in  my  district " 

The  politician  didn't  finish  his  sentence. 

"  What !  "  exclained  Roosevelt,  interrupting 
him.  "Is  that  infernal  scoundrel  still  in  that 
place?  I  had  some  knowledge  of  him  when  I 
was  Civil  Service  Commissioner." 

The  politician  acknowledged  that  Mr.  Blank 
was  still  there  and  then  turned  the  subject. 


02  TRUit  ano  f>umor  of  Bmertcan  politics 

Repealed  the  Law 

The  following  preamble  and  resolutions  were 
introduced  in  the  lower  House  of  the  Legislature 
early  in  1901,  and  referred  to  the  Federal  Rela- 
tions Committee : 

"  Whereas,  A  statute  exists  in  this  State  pro- 
viding for  the  payment  of  a  bounty  on  mountain- 
lions'  scalps,  and 

"  Whereas,  The  Hon.  Theodore  Roosevelt,  the 
Rough-Rider  Vice-President  of  the  United  States 
is  now  touring  the  State  with  the  avowed  pur- 
pose of  slaughtering  all  the  mountain-lions  therein 
found,  and 

"  Whereas,  The  slaughter  thereof  by  the  Vice- 
President  of  the  United  States  supersedes  the 
necessity  of  the  bounty  thus  provided  by  law, 
therefore  be  it 

"Resolved,  that  upon  the  departure  of  the 
said  Theodore  Roosevelt,  Rough-Rider  Vice- 
President  of  the  United  States,  with  his  knives 
so  vividly  portrayed  in  the  newspapers  of  the 
United  States,  that  the  law  providing  for  the 
payment  of  a  bounty  upon  mountain-lion  scalps 
should  be  repealed  for  two  reasons. : 

"  First,  as  a  matter  of  economy. 

"Second,  because  we  must  have  mountain- 
lions  and  their  multiplication  should  be  encour- 
aged to  the  end  that  the  said  Theodore  Roose- 


"CQit  an?  twiner  of  Bmerican  politics  93 

velt,  Rough-Rider  Vice- President  of  the  United 
States,  may  be  induced  to  return  to  this  State  to 
repeat  his  acts  of  daring  and  prowess,  and  thereby 
add  to  the  fame  of  the  State." 

Borrowed  Steins 

The  clubs  in  Washington  early  in  1902  en- 
joyed some  amusement  over  an  incident  of  Prince 
Henry's  visit  which  escaped  the  notice  of  the 
"Argus-eyed  reporters."  As  the  story  goes, 
President  Roosevelt  wished  to  show  the  nation's 
guest,  in  private,  a  compliment  which  the  for- 
malities of  his  public  entertainment  put  out  of 
the  question — to  wit,  to  prove  to  him  that  the 
people's  drink  of  the  Fatherland  had  won  as  sure 
a  foothold  in  the  New  World  as  it  had  long  en- 
joyed in  the  Old.  To  this  end  the  President  or- 
dered from  a  leading  German  restaurant  a  supply 
of  Wurzburger  Hof brau  for  an  informal  supper 
which  was  to  be  served  at  the  White  House.  As 
the  table  equipment  of  our  republican  palace 
does  not  include  the  covered  steins  necessary  to 
give  this  beer  its  proper  relish,  the  same  restau- 
rateur was  directed  to  furnish  several  of  the  fin- 
est specimens  from  his  own  stock.  When  the 
Prince  was  brought  to  the  table  he  found  the 
beer  already  in  place,  each  stein  being  filled  to 
the  brim  and  ready  for  action.  It  was  a  most 


94  tatt  and  t>umor  of  American  politics 

pleasant  surprise,  which  he  attested  by  propos- 
ing a  merry  round  of  healths.  As  he  drained 
the  last  drop  and  was  about  to  set  down  his  stein, 
his  eye  was  caught  by  something  at  the  bottom 
of  it,  and  the  smile  on  his  face  relaxed.  He 
cast  a  glance  of  quizzical  alarm  towards  the  Pres- 
ident and  then  towards  the  door,  as  if  he  more 
than  half  expected  a  raid  from  the  constabulary. 
His  companions,  consumed  with  curiosity,  tipped 
their  steins  and  peered  in,  too.  In  rich  blue 
capital  letters,  burned  into  the  clay,  this  inscrip- 
tion stared  up  at  them  from  the  depths  :  "  Stolen 
from  Heidelberg's  Deutsche  Wirthschaft,  8863 
Pennsylvania  Avenue. ' ' 


CHAPTER  IX 
The  Trials  of  Political  Life 

Queer  Demands  Upon  a  Congressman 

THE  job  of  a  Congressman  is  not  the  easiest 
to  be  found  in  the  public  service.  His  duties 
are  not  confined  to  the  months  he  spends  at 
Washington.  His  constituents  have  things  for 
him  to  do  whether  Congress  is  in  session  or  not. 

"  I  never  had  an  idea  before  how  many  peo- 
ple had  use  for  a  Congressman,"  said  a  Repre- 
sentative who  was  elected  last  fall  from  one  of 
the  New  York  City  districts.  "  Here  I  have 
been  elected  less  than  six  months,  and  I  believe 
I  have  received  at  least  one  letter  or  a  call  from 
every  one  of  the  thousands  of  people  who  live  in 
my  district. 

"That  is  no  exaggeration.  Look  at  that 
mail  there.  There  are  more  than  one  hundred 
letters  and  packages  in  it  and  such  a  mail 
reaches  me  three  times  a  day.  The  bombard- 
ment began  one  hour  after  I  was  nominated. 
Then  a  delegation  waited  on  me  in  the  interest 
of  a  certain  young  man  from  their  section  who 
wanted  to  be  my  private  secretary.  At  that 
95 


96  tutt  an&  tmmor  of  Bmerican  politics 

time  I  had  not  even  got  out  of  the  convention 
hall. 

"During  the  canvass  I  had  three  similar  ap- 
plications. After  the  election,  my  political  or- 
ganization took  the  matter  up.  They  began 
indorsing  candidates  for  the  secretaryship  and 
sending  delegations  to  wait  on  me.  I  held  re- 
ceptions for  them  on  week-days  and  Sundays. 
Finally  I  made  my  selection  and  then  I  had  to 
listen  to  protests. 

"Now,  there  are  more  than  one  hundred 
post-offices  in  my  district.  The  term  of  every 
Postmaster  expires  during  my  incumbency. 
Every  one  of  them  wants  to  be  retained  and  I 
have  on  file  an  application  from  each  one. 
Each  of  these  hundred  men  has  interested  in 
his  behalf  from  three  to  four  influential  friends 
of  his  neighborhood  and  I  am  receiving  personal 
letters  from  each  of  them. 

"  Then  there  are  at  least  two  persons  in  each 
town  who  would  like  to  succeed  the  Postmaster. 
In  some  places  there  are  four  or  five.  I  have 
received  visits  and  letters  from  all  these  candi- 
dates and  their  friends.  Please  notice  that  this 
Postmaster  business  has  not  yet  reached  the 
stage  where  the  political  committees  come  in. 

"I  have  received  just  173  applications  for 
offices  in  the  Government  service.  These  per- 


"CUtt  and  twmor  ol  Bmertcan  politics  97 

sons  are  the  most  persistent  I  ever  met.  I  wish 
I  could  give  each  of  them  a  job.  That's  the 
only  way  I'll  get  rid  of  some  of  them. 

"  I  didn't  have  an  appointment  to  West  Point 
to  make.  I  made  a  public  announcement  of 
that  fact,  but  nevertheless  I  had  to  do  a  lot  of 
correspondence  on  that  subject.  I  did  have  an 
appointment  to  Annapolis.  There  were  fifty 
young  men  who  wanted  it.  Then  a  notice  got 
into  the  papers  somehow  that  I  was  about  to 
hold  a  competitive  examination  for  the  appoint- 
ment. This  caused  a  flood  of  letters  and  I  had 
to  write  all  over  again  to  each  of  the  young 
men.  After  I  made  the  appointment  I  received 
applications  from  a  dozen  young  men  who 
wanted  to  be  placed  on  the  list  as  second  and 
even  third  man. 

"  One  evening  I  received  a  request  from  a 
constituent  asking  for  an  interview.  I  set  a 
date  and  then  two  men  showed  up  who  wanted 
to  interest  me  in  a  contract  for  gum  to  put  on 
the  back  of  postage  stamps.  I  wrote  to  the 
Department  in  Washington  and  found  out  how 
they  should  proceed  to  get  their  proposal  con- 
sidered. I  have  just  succeeded  in  getting  them 
quieted  for  a  time.  Then  along  came  another 
fellow  who  heard  that  the  Government  had  just 
discontinued  the  use  of  stoves  in  one  of  the  De- 


98  TKQit  and  Dumor  of  Hmcncan  politics 

partments.  A  lot  of  stoves  were  put  out  of 
business  in  this  way  and  he  knew  where  he 
could  use  the  stoves  and  would  like  to  get  them. 
I  had  some  correspondence  on  the  stove  ques- 
tion. 

"  I  have  just  satisfied  a  well-to-do  woman  who 
lives  in  my  district  by  hunting  up  the  pedigree 
of  her  ancestors.  She  wanted  to  join  the 
Daughters  of  the  Revolution,  but  did  not  have 
the  record  of  her  great-grandfather,  who  was  an 
officer  in  Washington's  army.  After  consider- 
able correspondence  with  two  Departments  in 
Washington  I  finally  obtained  the  record  she 
wanted. 

"  If  anybody  thinks  a  Congressman  has  noth- 
ing to  do  but  to  make  speeches  in  the  halls  of 
Congress  my  advice  is  to  get  elected  to  Congress 
and  he  will  find  out  his  mistake." 


CHAPTER  X 
Three  Inaugurations 

Nuts  and  Raisins 

THE  second  inauguration  of  President  McKin- 
ley  suggested  the  following  to  a  former  Western 
Congressman  : 

"  I  was  in  Washington  on  the  day  of  the  in- 
auguration of  President  Harrison.  Major  Mc- 
Kinley,  as  he  was  then  called,  was,  if  I  am 
correct,  in  the  lower  house  of  Congress.  Any- 
way, he  was  in  Washington  on  the  day  referred 
to.  He  was  staying  at  the  Ebbitt  House  and  so 
was  I. 

"  After  the  procession  I  went  into  the  dining- 
room  rather  late.  Major  McKinley  was  alone 
at  a  table,  and  beckoned  me  to  it.  Naturally, 
we  talked  of  the  event  of  the  day,  and  I  said 
among  other  things,  that  I  presumed  he  would 
be  in  the  same  place  as  Harrison  some  day. 
He  replied  in  these  words  as  nearly  as  I  recall 
them  : 

"  '  It  is  the  one  thing  which  would  always 
make  me  hesitate  to  be  President.'  (Meaning 
99 


loo  Wit  anfc  Dumor  of  Bmcrfcan  politico 

the  parade. )  '  I  suppose  we  must  all  have  an 
inaugural  parade,  an  address  from  the  East  side 
of  the  Capitol,  and  a  review.  But  I  would 
dread  them  if  I  were  President.  And  then 
there  is  the  inaugural  ball. 

"  '  If  I  had  my  own  way  about  it,  I  should 
dispense  with  that,  unless  the  date  could  be 
changed,  as  it  ought  to  be.  The  inaugural  ad- 
dress should  be  delivered  in  the  lower  house. 
Few  of  the  people  who  assemble  in  front  of  the 
building  can  hear  the  address.  They  go  there 
to  see  the  President.  They  could  see  him  much 
better  along  the  line  of  the  parade. 

"  '  Some  of  these  days,  unless  we  change  the 
date  of  our  inauguration,  a  President  will  die 
from  the  effects  of  exposing  himself  by  appear- 
ing, as  he  is  now  required  to  do,  first  as  a 
speaker,  and  afterwards  at  the  reviewing  stand  in 
front  of  the  White  House.' 

"  While  he  was  talking  I  was  listening.  He 
talked  and  ate  at  the  same  time,  and  I  remem- 
ber distinctly  that  his  ability  to  do  the  latter 
left  me  without  any  nuts  and  raisins.  He 
devoured  the  whole  layout,  and  I  told  him  so,  in 
a  joking  way.  He  replied  : 

"  '  Well,  if  I  ever  get  to  be  President,  you 
come  over  to  the  White  House  and  I  will  give 
you  all  the  nuts  and  raisins  you  can  hold.' 


tutt  ano  fnimor  of  Bmcrican  politics  101 

' '  I  have  never  seen  him  since  he  became 
President,  but  if  ever  I  go  to  Washington  while 
he  is  in  the  White  House,  I  am  going  to  hold 
him  to  his  promise.  But  I  shall  want  the  first 
whack  at  the  stand,  for  McKinley  can  eat  nuts 
faster  than  any  man  I  ever  saw." 

Had  No  Show 

"Grover  Cleveland's  first  Presidential  in- 
auguration was  the  first  I  ever  saw,"  said 
the  man  who  listened  to  the  story  of  the  former 
Congressman.  "  I  was  a  Democrat  then  as 
I  am  now.  You  know  our  party  had  not  had  a 
hand  in  the  inauguration  business  for  a  good 
many  years.  It  was  a  great  party  novelty. 

"  I  went  down  to  Washington  with  several  of 
our  boys,  and  we  got  there  three  days  ahead  of 
the  event.  We  were  all  huddled  in  one  room 
at  Willard's.  The  day  the  Elect  came  to  town 
we  all  went  to  the  hotel  where  he  stayed,  in- 
tending to  pay  him  our  distinguished  respects. 
The  office  of  the  hotel  was  as  near  as  we  ever 
got. 

"  Then  we  went  back  to  Willard's  and  lined 
up  in  front  of  the  bar.  But  there  were  two 
lines  ahead  of  our  crowd,  and  they  were  the 
thirstiest  lot  of  chaps  I  ever  saw.  After  we  had 
waited  until  our  throats  were  cracked,  I  got  the 


102  -omit  ano  f>umor  of  Bmertcan 

attention  of  the  head  bartender  and  asked  him 
when  he  thought  we  would  get  a  show. 

"  '  What  are  you  ?  '  he  asked,  '  Democrats  or 
Republicans  ?  ' 

"  I  told  him,  and  he  replied  : 

"  '  I  don't  know  just  where  you  will  be  able 
to  come  in.  The  first  line  you  see  is  from 
Buffalo.  They  came  down  ahead  of  Cleveland, 
and  they  think  they  own  the  town.  The  fel- 
lows in  the  second  row  are  Republicans  who 
are  waiting  to  drown  their  sorrow.  Where  are 
you  fellows  from  ?  ' 

"I  told  him  we  were  from  Kentucky. 

"'Good  heavens!'  he  exclaimed.  'There 
is  no  show  for  you  here.  Go  to  your  room  and 
I'll  send  up  a  barrel.'  " 

They  Scattered 

"Eight  years  after,  I  was  in  Washington 
again,  and  it  was  inauguration  day  for  G.  C. 
As  usual  I  was  corralled  at  Willard's.  As 
of  yore  I  went  to  the  bar.  Nobody  there  but 
the  barkeeper.  I  remarked  the  change  in  the 
appearance  of  his  place  since  Cleveland's  first 
inauguration. 

"  '  Yes,'  replied  the  boss  in  a  wheezy  voice, 
'  the  Republicans  are  glad  Cleveland's  coming 
back,  and  they  don't  need  any  whiskey,  be- 


TWltt  ano  f>umot  of  Bmerfcan  Politics  103 

cause  they  know  that  the  Democrats  hate 
Cleveland,  and  the  Democrats  are  so  blamed 
mad  th'at  they  are  thinking  about  getting  up  a 
temperance  crusade.  You're  the  first  man 
that's  showed  up  here  this  morning.  Have 
something  on  the  house  to  scatter  the  gloom.' 
"  And  we  scattered." 


CHAPTER  XI 

Three  of  a  Kind 

He  Married  the  Girl 

MORE  than  three  years  ago  a  tramp  might 
have  been  seen  traveling  along  the  road  near 
Armouk,  N.  Y.  His  clothes  were  shabby  in 
the  extreme,  his  hat  was  rimless,  one  shoe  was 
missing  and  in  its  place  was  a  dilapidated 
rubber.  Stopping  at  a  farmhouse  he  rapped  on 
the  kitchen  door.  The  knock  was  answered  by 
a  woman  apparently  about  forty,  while  at  her 
side  stood  a  comely  young  woman  just  out 
of  her  teens. 

Looking  up  at  the  woman,  he  asked  for  work. 
The  farmer's  wife  said  that  since  Cleveland  had 
been  elected  President  they  could  not  afford  to 
hire  help.  The  tramp  then  asked  for  a  drink 
of  water. 

"Wouldn't  you  rather  have  milk?"  asked 
the  woman.  Receiving  a  reply  in  the  affirma- 
tive, the  farmer's  wife  said,  "Annie,  go  down 
to  the  milk-room  and  bring  up  a  pan  of  milk." 

The  girl  went  around  the  corner  of  the  house, 
and  the  tramp  sat  down  on  the  upper  step  to 
104 


an&  tbumoc  of  Bmertcan  politics  105 

wait.  And  wait  he  did.  Five,  ten,  fifteen 
minutes  went  by,  and  still  the  girl  did  not  return 
with  the  milk.  Her  mother  said  a  number  of 
times,  "I  wonder  what  keeps  the  child." 
Finally  she  said,  "  1  must  go  and  see  what  is 
the  matter." 

The  woman  went  around  the  corner  of  the 
house  in  the  direction  taken  by  her  daughter. 
After  waiting  ten  or  fifteen  minutes  more,  the 
tramp,  getting  anxious  about  the  two  women 
and  the  milk,  also  went  around  the  house. 
Near  the  southwest  corner  was  a  large,  old- 
fashioned  cellar  door,  and  hanging  up  over  the 
cellar  entrance,  which  was  at  the  foot  of  the 
steps,  was  a  scythe  blade.  On  the  steps  sat 
both  mother  and  daughter  with  their  faces 
covered  with  their  aprons,  and  crying  as  if  their 
hearts  would  break.  In  great  surprise  the 
tramp  said : 

"For  heaven's  sake,  what's  the  matter? 
Have  you  both  hurt  yourselves  ?  " 

The  girl  replied,  saying,  "  No,  we  ain't  hurt 
— boo  !  hoo  !  but  when  I  came  down  the  steps 
I  saw — boo  !  hoo !  that  scythe  hanging  up  there 
and  I  thought — boo !  hoo !  that  suppose  you 
and  I  got  married,  and  we  had  a  little  boy — 
boo  !  hoo  ! — and  he  came  down  the  steps  and 
the  scythe  fell  down  on  him  and  killed  him — 


106  tout  anO  tmtnor  of  Bmcrican  politics 

boo  !  hoo  ! — oh,  Lord  !  "  and  then  both  women 
wept  in  concert,  while  the  tramp  stood  at  the 
head  of  the  steps  too  dumfounded  to  speak. 

After  a  time  he  said:  "Well,  I'll  tell  you 
what  I'll  do.  If  in  the  course  of  the  next  four 
years  I  meet  with  three  fools  such  as  you  are, 
I'll  come  back  and  marry  you,  and  we'll  run 
the  risk  of  the  kid  getting  killed,  or  else  we'll 
move  the  scythe." 

One  morning  a  short  time  after  that,  as  the 
tramp  was  crawling  out  from  under  a  haystack 
where  he  had  spent  the  night,  he  saw  a  man 
come  out  of  a  house  in  his  nightshirt,  carrying 
his  trousers  in  his  hands.  The  tramp  stood  in 
wonder,  watching  every  motion  of  the  farmer. 
Hanging  his  trousers  on  the  eaves  of  a  low 
building,  the  farmer  climbed  up  on  the  roof. 
Then  sitting  down,  he  slid  into  his  trousers, 
which,  when  the  weight  struck  them,  slipped 
from  the  pegs  on  which  they  were  hung.  Then 
the  farmer  slipped  his  arms  through  the  sus- 
penders and  started  for  the  house. 

The  tramp,  recovering  from  his  surprise, 
shouted:  "Say,  boss,  just  hold  on  a  minute, 
will  you?  " 

The  farmer  turned  towards  the  sound,  and 
waited  for  the  tramp.  As  the  latter  came  up 
the  farmer  said  :  "  Well,  what  d'ye  want  ?  " 


"Wait  anfc  tumor  of  American  politics  107 

"  I  just  want  to  know  why  you  hung  up  your 
trousers  where  you  did  and  then  slid  into 
them?" 

With  a  surprised  look  the  farmer  said  :  "To 
put  them  on,  of  course." 

"  Do  you  always  do  it  that  way?"  asked  the 
tramp. 

"  To  be  sure ;  that's  the  only  way,  ain't 
it?" 

The  tramp,  getting  out  of  his  own  trousers, 
said  to  the  farmer,  "  Why  don't  you  do  it  this 
way?  "at  the  same  time  showing  the  way  in 
which  trousers  are  usually  put  on. 

"Why,  I  never  thought  of  that  way,"  said 
the  farmer.  The  tramp  turned  away  without 
saying  anything  more  to  the  farmer,  but  to 
himself  he  said  :  "  That  fellow  is  a  darn  sight 
bigger  fool  than  that  girl  or  her  mother.  I 
guess  I  had  better  try  some  other  road  or  I'll 
meet  two  more  suph  fools,  and  then  I'll  have  to 
marry  that  girl." 

Several  days  after  that,  as  he  was  looking  for 
a  place  for  the  night,  he  saw  a  man  lead  a  horse 
down  to  the  river  and  into  a  flatboat,  which, 
with  a  great  deal  of  hard  work,  he  got  across 
the  stream.  Then  he  led  the  horse  to  the  edge 
of  the  water  and  let  it  drink.  Then  putting  the 
horse  again  in  the  flatboat  he  returned  to  the 


108  TBllit  ano  Dumoc  of  Bmerican  politics 

spot  from  which  he  had  started  .  By  this  time 
the  tramp  stood  at  the  landing-place. 

"Hello!  "  said  the  man. 

"Hello!"  answered  the  tramp.  "Say, 
mister,  what  d'ye  take  that  horse  over  to  the 
other  side  for  ?  " 

"To  give  him  a  drink,"  was  the  reply. 

"Well,  say,  why  didn't  you  water  him  on 
this  side?  "  said  the  tramp. 

"  I  never  thought  of  that,"  said  the  man. 

"Oh,  Lord!"  said  the  tramp,  "only  a 
month  gone,  and  I  have  already  met  with  two 
fools  that  are  a  darn  sight  worse  than  the  girl  or 
her  mother !  " 

After  the  election  of  McKinley  in  1896  the 
tramp  found  no  difficulty  in  getting  work,  and 
as  he  was  a  tramp  only  from  necessity  and  not 
from  choice,  he  soon  accumulated  quite  a  lot  of 
money,  and  with  good  clothes  and  the  feeling 
that  goes  with  them,  he  was  entirely  another 
man.  Time  slipped  by  rapidly ;  the  four  years 
were  almost  up,  and  another  election  was  near  at 
hand.  Meeting  an  old  acquaintance  who  had 
also  had  to  tramp  or  starve  in  the  hard  times,  he 
talked  with  him  of  old  times.  They  finally  got 
down  to  the  present  day. 

"What  are  you  doing  now?  "  asked  the  ex- 
tramp. 


IQit  anD  tmmor  of  Bmerican  politics  109 

"I've  been  in  the  painting  business  two  or 
three  years  now,"  replied  his  friend.  "I've 
got  more  work  than  I  can  do.  I  have  ten  men 
working  now,  and  I  can't  keep  up  with  my 
orders." 

"How  are  you  going  to  vote?"  innocently 
asked  the  ex-tramp,  thinking  that  a  man  who 
found  business  so  good  under  the  Republican 
administration  would  of  course  vote  to  continue 
the  good  times.  Fancy  his  surprise,  if  you  can, 
when  his  friend  replied  : 

"Oh,  I  am  a  Democrat,  and  I'm  going  to 
vote  for  Bryan." 

The  ex-tramp  turned  sorrowfully  away. 

"Why,  where  are  you  going?  "asked  the 
painter. 

"I'm  going  back  to  keep  my  promise  and 
marry  that  girl,"  was  the  sad  reply. 


CHAPTER  XII 
Rewards  of  Political  Service 

St.  Vitus's  Dance 

A  YOUNG  man  afflicted  with  St.  Vitus's  dance, 
who  is  known  on  the  East  Side  of  New  York  as 
Spider  Joe,  recently  saved  from  much  embar- 
rassment a  popular  young  secretary  to  a  well- 
known  Western  Congressman.  As  a  result, 
however,  one  policeman,  at  least,  declares  that 
"frindship  is  done  wid  me  after  this."  The 
secretary  in  question  is  widely  known  in  Wash- 
ington, and  while  there,  is  a  model  of  activity 
and  strict  attention  to  business,  but  occasionally, 
he  takes  a  trip  to  New  York,  where  convivial 
friends  entertain  him.  On  the  occasion  in  ques- 
tion, the  secretary  got  arrested  on  the  Bowery, 
and  the  policeman  who  gathered  him  in,  declared 
that  "  he  hadn't  a  lig  under  him."  Some  hours 
later,  two  New  York  Congressmen  went  to  the 
station-house,  bailed  him  out  and  hurried  away 
with  him.  The  problem  of  how  to  save  the  sec- 
retary the  humiliation  of  standing  in  the  line  of 
"drunks"  next  morning  in  the  Essex  Market 
Police  Court  presented  itself,  but  was  quickly 
110 


"GCUt  anfc  tnimor  of  Bmerfcan  politics  ill 

solved  by  an  East  Side  politician  who  was  ap- 
pealed to. 

"Why,  dat's  easy,"  he  said.  "  We  can  jist 
put  in  a  ringer,  if  you  put  up  a  little  dough  ter 
pay  der  fine  and  expenses. ' ' 

The  money  was  willingly  produced,  and  the 
politician  said  to  the  secretary's  friends :  "Jist 
tell  him  to  keep  away.  I'll  do  der  rest." 

When  the  court  opened  in  the  morning  the 
secretary  was  already  on  his  way  to  Washington. 
WThen  his  name  was  called  Spider  Joe  answered 
to  it,  and  hobbled  up  to  the  rail. 

"  Is  that  man  drunk  yet?  "  asked  the  Magis- 
trate of  the  policeman  as  he  witnessed  Joe's  un* 
steady  gait. 

"  No,  sor,"  said  the  policeman,  who  had  pre- 
viously, of  course,  been  posted  and  made  agree- 
able to  the  imposition.  "  That  do  be  his  nateral 
walk,  sir.  He  got  some  kind  of  a  holy  dance 
that  make  him  go  loike  that." 

"  Was  he  walking  that  way  last  night  ?  "  asked 
the  Magistrate. 

"  Yis,  sor,"  replied  the  cop. 

"  How  do  you  know  he  was  drunk  ?  Did  you 
see  him  drink  enough  to  get  him  drunk  ?  "  ques- 
tioned the  Magistrate. 

"  Oi  didn't  see  him  drunk,  sor,"  replied  the 
cop,  "  but  he  was  staggerin'." 


112  "Waft  and  Dumor  of  Bmertcan  politics 

"  Officer,"  said  the  Magistrate,  "  you  deserve 
to  be  reprimanded.  Here's  a  poor  cripple  that 
suffers  arrest  through  your  stupidity.  You  are 
a  disgrace  to  the  force.  You  should  have  found 
out  that  he  was  suffering  from  this  affliction  and 
not  staggering  from  drink. 

"Young  man,  you  are  discharged,"  said  the 
Magistrate  turning  to  Joe.  "And  you  are  en- 
titled to  an  apology  for  this  unfortunate  mis- 
take." 

"  Thot's  what  Oi  git  fer  doin'  a  favor  for  a 
politician,"  remarked  the  angry  cop,  as  he  left 
the  court. 

The  Politician  and  the  Pig 
A  political  candidate,  on  paying   a   second 
visit   to   the   house   of  a    doubtful   voter,  was 
somewhat  surprised  at  hearing  him  say  that  he 
would  support  him. 

"Glad  to  hear  it,"  said  the  candidate ;  "I 
thought  you  were  against  me." 

"So  I  was  at  first,"  replied  the  farmer. 
"  When  you  called  here  the  other  day  and  stood 
by  that  pig-sty  and  talked  for  half  an  hour, 
ye  didn't  budge  me  an  inch ;  but  after  you  had 
gone  away,  sir,  I  got  to  thinkin'  how  ye'd  reached 
yer  hand  over  the  rail  and  scratched  the  pig's 
back  till  he  lay  down  wi'  the  pleasure  of  it.  I 


an&  tumor  of  Bmerican  politics  113 

made  up  my  mind  that  when  a  man  was  so 
sociable  as  that  wi'  a  poor  fellow-creature,  I 
wasn't  the  one  to  vote  against  him." 

Waited  for  Him 

A  pompous  individual  once  called  to  see  the 
British  Minister  at  Washington,  D.  C.  The 
Minister  was  out,  and  the  caller  insisted  on 
waiting. 

"Then  pray  take  a  chair,"  said  the  attache. 

After  half  an  hour  the  pompous  man  grew 
impatient,  and  asked  when  the  minister  was  ex- 
pected back. 

"I  don't  know,"  said  the  attache;  "he  left 
for  Europe  this  morning." 

Filed  His  Application 

A  clerk  in  a  public  office  entered  the  private 
room  of  the  head  of  his  department  to  ask  for  a 
fortnight's  holiday.  The  official  received  him 
with  his  usual  affability,  and  told  him  to  hand 
in  his  request  in  writing. 

"  Oh,  I  did  not  think  that  was  necessary  if  I 
applied  to  you  in  person,"  said  the  clerk. 
"Oh,  yes;  in  fact,  it  is  indispensable." 
"  Then  I  will  go  back  to  the  office." 
"  No  need  to  do  that ;  see,   here   are  pens, 
ink,  and  paper  ;  sit  down  and  write." 


114  lUit  anfc  twmor  of  Bmerfcan  politics 

The  clerk  obeyed.  The  petition  was  written 
out,  signed,  and  folded. 

"Now,"  said  the  functionary,  "you  have 
only  to  present  it." 

"To  whom?  " 

"To  me,  of  course."  And,  taking  up  the 
petition,  he  wiped  his  glasses,  carefully  adjusted 
them,  read  the  document  from  beginning  to 
end,  placing  it  on  file  along  with  a  number  of 
similar  applications,  and  then  remarked  with 
the  utmost  gravity:  "I  have  read  your  peti- 
tion, and  regret  exceedingly  that  I  am  com- 
pelled to  inform  you  that  I  cannot  accede  to 
your  request. ' ' 

The  Loud  "  Larf  " 

On  one  occasion,  a  gentleman,  while  address- 
ing a  meeting,  was  repeatedly  interrupted  by  an 
individual  who  alternated  loud  guffaws  with  the 
imitation  of  a  dog's  howls.  The  speaker  in- 
quired the  name  of  this  fellow,  and  was  told 
that  his  name  was  John  Larf. 

"Mr.  Larf,"  he  said,  raising  his  voice,  "our 
friend  Goldsmith  clearly  had  you  in  view  when 
he  said : 

"  '  The  watch-dog's  voice  that  bay'd  the  whispering  wind, 
And  the  loud  Larf  that  spoke  the  vacant  mind.'  " 


Wit  ano  "Burner  of  Bmertcan  politics  us 

"  He  said  that,  did  he?"  cried  Larf,  as  he 
turned  round  and  struck  a  little  man  who  was 
in  the  crowd  a  severe  blow  over  the  head.  And 
it  was  only  after  a  violent  rough-and-tumble  and 
much  vituperative  language  that  Mr.  Larf  was 
convinced  that  the  man  he  had  assaulted,  and 
whose  name  was  Goldsmith,  was  not  the  gentle- 
man referred  to  by  the  speaker. 

Presidential  Lightning 

"  The  lightning  caused  me  to  bet  on  the 
Presidential  election  in  1860,"  said  a  Wall  Street 
man  who  was  called  in  as  stakeholder  during 
the  late  election.  "  And  I  won." 

"I'm  not  more  superstitious  than  the  average 
individual,"  continued  the  man,  "although  my 
act  would  indicate  the  contrary.  I  was  a  young 
man  in  a  law  office  in  a  Kentucky  town.  My 
preceptor  had  pasted  over  his  desk  a  poster  con- 
taining the  portraits  of  all  the  candidates,  Lin- 
coln and  Hamlin,  Breckenridge  and  Lane, 
Douglas  and  Johnson,  and  Bell  and  Everett. 
The  poster  contained  the  platforms  of  the  various 
parties.  There  was  some  uncertainty  in  that  cam- 
paign. My  preceptor  was  an  enthusiastic  Doug- 
las man  and  wanted  to  bet  all  he  had  on  his  candi- 
date. It  was  my  first  experience  in  a  Presidential 
campaign,  and  I  had  a  fool  notion  that  Bell  and 


116  unit  and  Dumor  of  Bmerican  Politics 

Everett  would  be  elected.  I  had  never  made  a 
money  bet,  but  I  was  aching  to  take  up  my  Black- 
stonian  preceptor,  although  I  lacked  nerve. 

"  One  day  there  was  a  thunder-storm.  The 
lightning  loosened  a  number  of  things  in  the 
town,  the  building  in  which  I  was  a  law  student 
being  one.  In  one  of  its  pranks  the  lightning 
cut  in  the  wall  on  which  that  political  poster  was. 
The  result  was  that  the  upper  part  of  the  poster 
hung  down  from  the  wall,  covering  up  all  the 
candidates  save  Lincoln  and  Hamlin.  Despite 
my  sympathies  for  Bell  and  Everett,  I  imagined 
I  saw  in  this  condition  of  the  poster  the  result 
of  that  election,  and  a  few  days  later  when  the 
Douglas  enthusiast  talked  on  his  upper  notes  and 
offered  to  bet  $25  even  to  his  man  I  took  him  up. 
He  was  very  much  astonished  to  think  I  would 
bet  on  Lincoln  and  Hamlin.  He  said  I  was  a 
young  ass  and  other  things,  and  that  he  would 
bet  with  me  to  teach  me  a  lesson.  After  the 
election  he  asked  me  how  I  came  to  take  the 
chance,  for  there  were  few  Lincoln  votes  in  the 
town.  When  I  told  him  the  source  of  my  tip  he 
grew  serious. 

"  '  You  have  won  your  first  bet  on  a  Pres- 
idential election,'  he  said,  '  but,  remember, 
young  man,  lightning  never  strikes  in  the  same 
place  twice.' 


and  Uumor  of  American  politics  in 

"But  it  did  in  this  case.  Lincoln  was  re- 
elected." 

A  Question  of  Intent 

In  one  of  the  executive  departments  not  a 
thousand  miles  from  the  Star  Building,  a  young 
man  fresh  from  the  plains  of  the  Southwest  was 
appointed  a  subchief  in  one  of  the  divisions. 

He  had  a  misunderstanding  with  one  of  the 
clerks  a  few  days  after  his  advent,  and  he  was 
instructed  by  his  superior  to  discipline  the  clerk, 
as  the  latter  happened  to  be  in  the  wrong. 

"  You  must  discipline  him.  Not  harshly,  but 
sit  down  on  him  properly,"  said  the  chief  of 
division. 

"I  don't  like  to  do  that,"  replied  the 
Texan. 

"We  can't  take  our  likes  and  dislikes  into 
consideration  in  government  service  in  the  ad- 
ministration of  our  duties,"  advised  the  chief. 
"  Give  him  a  gentle  dressing  down,  and  then 
sit  down  on  him  quick  and  hard." 

"I  hate  to  do  it." 

"  Can't  help  it.  It's  your  duty.  He  is  in  a 
room  by  himself.  No  one  will  hear  or  see  you. 
It  will  be  good  practice  for  you,  as  you  will 
have  to  do  it  often.  He's  a  little  fellow, 
too." 


118  tdit  and  fDumor  of  Bmerican  politics 

"  That's  the  worst  of  it.  If  he  were  my 
size,  I'd  like  the  sport  better  than  branding  and 
roping  steers.  However,  having  been  a  deputy 
sheriff  I  know  what  my  duty  means.  When  I 
was  told  to  go  out  and  get  a  cattle  rustler  or  a 
bad  cowboy,  I  usually  got  him,  even  if  he  came 
back  to  the  courthouse  feet  first.  You're  boss, 
so  here  goes.  I  hate  to  do  it." 

"Nonsense,"  explained  the  chief.  "It's 
nothing.  Report  to  me  what  he  said." 

About  half  an  hour  later  the  subchief  entered 
his  superior's  room.  His  face  was  scratched 
and  his  clothing  appeared  somewhat  rumpled. 
Otherwise,  his  usually  serious  demeanor  was  un- 
changed. 

"I  sat  on  that  clerk  for  fifteen  minutes,"  he 
said  quietly. 

"What?"  shouted  the  chief. 

"I  sat  on  him  for  fifteen  minutes  by  the 
clock.  For  a  little  fellow  he  put  up  a  stiff  fight. 
I  bucked  him,  bound  him  and  almost  branded 
him  from  force  of  habit.  But  it  was  easy." 

"  My  God  !  "  gasped  the  other  man. 

"  You  said  to  be  gentle  with  him,  you 
know." 

"Holy  smoke!"  cried  the  chief,  faintly. 
"You  obeyed  my  orders  literally;  I  meant  for 
you  to  sit  on  him  figuratively." 


"Olflit  anfc  fnimor  of  Bmcrtcan  politics  119 

"You  didn't  say  a  word  about  figures,"  re- 
sponded the  ex-cowboy,  sullenly. 

"I  didn't  say  for  you  to  sit  down  on  him 
literally." 

"  You  didn't  say  at  all  where  I  was  to  sit  on 
him,  but  I  sat  there  all  right,"  said  the  former 
cowpuncher,  desperately. 

"  No,  no ;  you  don't  understand,"  said  the 
chief,  when  he  recovered  his  breath.  "You 
must  not  take  everything  in  a  literal  sense  in 
Washington.  You  are  not  chasing  cows  or 
frontier  bandits,  and  you  mustn't  be  so  serious. 
When  you  are  ordered  to  '  sit  down  on  a  clerk  ' 
it  means  in  a  figurative  sense  only,  and  you 
should  give  him,  to  be  thoroughly  explicit  this 
time,  a  good  talking  to  with  your  mouth.  You 
mustn't  actually  sit  on  him.  If  this  gets  out  we 
will  be  the  laughing-stock  of  the  office.  I  must 
fix  it  up  at  once." 

It  was  "fixed  up"  by  sticking  patches  of 
soothing  plaster  on  the  little  clerk's  wounded 
body  and  feelings  by  the  positive  promise  of  a 
promotion  to  the  next  vacancy  occurring  in  the 
division  if  he  kept  quiet.  The  ex-cowboy 
squared  himself  by  treating  the  clerk  and  his 
chief  to  lunch  for  a  fortnight.  It  was  at  one  of 
these  lunches  that  they  told  a  Star  man  all 
about  it,  and  the  joke  is  too  good  to  keep. 


120  Wit  and  Dumor  of  Bmerican  politics 

Tillman  on  a  Bat 

Apropos  of  the  encounter  between  Senators  Tillman  and  McLaurin 
during  Ike  winter  of  1902,  the  following  poetical  satire,  en- 
titled "  Tillman  on  a  Bat,"  appeared. 

They  looked  extremely  rocky  in  the   Senate-room  that 

day ; 
They'd  been  fussing  o'er  the  Philippines;  the  dickens 

was  to  pay. 
So  when  Spooner  spoke  quite  peaceably  and  met  with 

no  retort, 
A  pallor  wreathed  the  features  of  the  patrons  "  of  the 

sport." 

A  straggling  few  got  up  to  go,  leaving  there  the  rest, 
With  hope  that  springs  eternal  within  the  human  breast, 
For  they  thought  if  only  Tillman  could  get  a  whack  at 

that, 
They'd  put  up  even  money  now  with  Tillman  on  a  bat. 

But   suddenly   McLaurin's   voice    across   the    chamber 

sped, 
And  "  Tillman,   you're   a   liar ! "   it   sounded   like   he 

said ; — 
Then — when  the  dust  had  lifted  and  they  saw  the  gory 

sight  — 
There  was  Mac  a-punching  Tillman,  who  was  guarding 

with  his  right. 

From  the  galPry,  black  with  people,  went  up  a  joyous 

roar, 
And  the  members  in  the  lobby  made  a  rush  upon  the 

floor. 


TRflit  anfc  tmmor  of  Bmerican  politics  121 

McLaurin   cut   and   feinted  ;  once   more  Till's  jabber 

flew; 
But  McLaurin  countered  neatly,  and  the  gall'ry  yelled 

"  Strike  two !  " 

"  Encore !  "  cried  the  multitude  and  the  echo  answered 

«  Core !  " 
As  McLaurin  with  a  plexus  push  sent  Tillman  to  the 

floor. 
Then  Tillman's  face  grew  cold  and  item  ;  they  saw  his 

muscles  strain, — 
And  they  knew  he'd  never,  never  let  himself  be  downed 

again. 

The  smile  is  gone  from  both  their  lips ;  their  forms  are 
clenched ;  they  swear  — 

When  suddenly  a  peace-maker  does  pluck  apart  trie- 
pair  ; 

And  now  McLaurin's  pulled  away  from  off  his  gory  foe. 

So  only  air  is  shattered  by  the  force  of  Tillman's  blow ! 

Oh,  somewhere   in  the  Philippines  the  sun  is   shining 

bright ; 

It  doesn't  seem  a  bit  disturbed  about  this  bloody  fight ; 
And  soldiers  still  are  playing   tag  on  that  far-distant 

shore  — 
But  there's  woe  among  the  Senate  now,  for  Tillman's, 

scrap  is  o'er. 


CHAPTER  XIII 
The  Wonders  of  Tupelo 

Private  John  Allen's  Last 
FOR  twenty  minutes — a  period  altogether  too 
brief — the  House  was  entertained  early  in  1901  by 
Representative  John  Allen  of  Mississippi  in  his 
old-time  form.  Tupelo,  his  home  and  the  town 
he  made  famous  in  legislative  annals,  was  the 
theme  in  general,  but  the  object  of  his  discourse 
was  a  $20,000  appropriation  for  a  fish  hatchery 
at  that  place.  And  the  House,  pleased  with  the 
flash  of  humor  from  the  genial  Mississippian, 
voted  the  money  without  a  dissenting  voice.  It 
was  proposed  and  carried  as  an  amendment  to 
the  Sundry  Civil  bill.  There  is  every  reason  to 
believe  that  the  Senate,  delighted  even  at  the 
echo  of  such  a  gracious  speech,  will  allow  the 
appropriation,  and  that  millions  of  fishes  yet 
unborn,  to  borrow  one  of  Mr.  Allen's  allusions, 
will  at  some  future  time  claim  Tupelo  as  their 
birthplace.  Mr.  Allen's  peculiar  intonation 
and  serio-comic  manner  enhance  the  fun  of  his 
spoken  words. 

122 


anD  tumor  of  Smertcan  politics  123 

"  I  do  not  deem  it  absolutely  necessary,"  he 
said,  as  soon  as  the  floor  was  yielded  to  him,  "to 
occupy  the  twenty  minutes  of  time  of  this  House 
in  order  to  pass  this  amendment.  There  has 
developed  here  an  amount  of  ignorance  about 
the  town  of  Tupelo,  where  this  fish-culture 
station  is  to  be  established,  that  I  think  justifies 
me,  in  the  closing  hours  of  this  session,  out  of  re- 
gard not  for  Tupelo  but  for  you  gentlemen  whom  I 
mention,  in  enlightening  some  of  you  on  this 
subject.  I  am  not  going  into  the  realm  of 
fiction.  I  am  not  going  to  rely  upon  a  tradition 
that  is  current  with  our  people  that  in  the  inter- 
view between  Columbus  and  Ferdinand  and 
Isabella,  that  he  thought  there  must  be  some- 
where on  the  globe  a  place  like  Tupelo.  (Ap- 
plause.) That  is  a  tradition,  but  I  do  not  rely 
upon  it.  I  come  down  to  a  later  period  to  cor- 
rect any  great  misapprehension  that  exists  in  the 
minds  of  a  great  many  people,  and  that  is  the 
proposition  that  Ponce  de  Leon,  when  he  landed 
on  the  coast  of  Florida,  started  out  to  look  for 
the  fountain  of  youth  or  for  the  limitless  gold- 
fields.  I  am  sure  it  is  no  such  thing.  Ponce 
de  Leon,  when  he  landed  on  the  coast  of  Florida, 
started  to  look  for  Tupelo.  (Laughter.)  Now, 
you  may  think  this  is  a  vain  boast,  but  his  ill- 
fated  expedition  was  followed  by  that  of  Fernando 


124  Tuatt  anO  l)umot  of  Smcrican  polftfce 

de  Soto  a  few  years  later,  who  had  better  luck 
and  actually  got  to  Tupelo. 

"  This  was  about  1540,"  continued  Mr.  Allen, 
courageously,  as  the  House  by  this  time  was 
concluding  nearly  every  one  of  his  sentences 
with  laughter.  "  After  he  had  got  there  he  found 
an  ideal  place  to  stop.  He  stopped  not  exactly 
in  the  town  of  Tupelo,  but  what  will  soon  be 
a  part  of  its  suburbs.  (Laughter.) 

"Now,  in  later  years,  in  1730,  an  explorer 
with  some  peculiar  French  name  started  again 
for  Tupelo.  (Laughter.)  They  landed  where 
de  Soto  had  landed  and  took  something  of  the 
same  route,  and  he  came  to  Tupelo.  The 
French,  the  Spanish,  and  the  English,  for  many 
years  contended  for  this  territory,  and,  as  I  am 
informed  by  those  who  are  familiar  with  the 
councils  of  this  great  nation  at  that  time,  the 
only  thing  they  were  contending  about  was  who 
should  have  Tupelo.  (Great  laughter.)  Finally 
the  United  States,  appreciating  the  importance 
of  this  position,  stepped  in  and  acquired  the  ter- 
ritory. (Renewed  laughter.) 

"Everything  went  on  very  well  until  about 
1 86 1,  when  the  South  concluded  to  secede  from 
the  Union.  I  am  reliably  informed  that  when 
Horace  Greeley  and  others  sought  Mr.  Lincoln, 
and  asked  him  to  let  the  wayward  sisters  depart 


Tttflit  and  tmmor  ot  Bmerican  politics  125 

in  peace,  he  shook  his  head  and  said,  '  No,  this 
secession  takes  from  without  our  bounds  Tupelo, 
(laughter)  and  we  will  not  submit  to  it.'  And 
it  was  to  rescue  to  the  world  this  town  that 
brought  on  the  war.  (Renewed  laughter.) 

"But,  as  I  was  saying,  when  the  war  began 
and  the  forces  of  the  Union  were  first  directed 
against  the  capital  of  the  nation  at  Richmond, 
we  had  some  small  reverses  over  here  at  Bull 
Run,  and  then  the  armies  of  this  country  were 
turned  against  Tupelo.  (Laughter.)  General 
Grant  went  down  to  Shiloh  and  started  for 
Tupelo.  Gen.  Albert  Sydney  Johnson  and 
myself  met  him  (laughter)  at  Shiloh,  and  if 
General  Johnson  hadn't  been  killed  and  I 
hadn't  got  scattered  on  the  evening  of  that  day, 
there  is  no  knowing  what  would  have  happened. 
(Great  laughter.)  We  had  to  fall  back,  but 
finally  we  went  back  to  Corinth,  and  they 
pressed  us  so  that  we  had  to  leave  there,  and 
President  Davis,  with  that  great  army,  sent 
General  Beauregard  back  to  Tupelo.  He  said  : 
'  Here  will  the  Confederacy  make  the  stand  of 
its  life.'  And  so  the  determination  of  our 
people  was  to  make  this  fight  the  great  fight  of 
the  Confederacy,  and  so  General  Grant  and 
General  Halleck  turned  off  in  other  directions 
and  left  that  army  there.  (Laughter. ) 


126  mit  an£>  fjumot  of  American  politics 

"A  little  later,  General  Sturgiss  started  out 
from  Memphis  with  a  pretty-well-equipped 
army,  and  going  to  Tupelo  he  got  down  to 
Brices'  Crossroads,  where  he  met  the  foe,  and 
decided  to  desist,  and  return  to  Memphis. 
Later,  Gen.  A.  J.  Smith  with  a  well-equipped 
army  started  out  for  Tupelo,  and  General  For- 
rest and  Stephen  B.  Lee  attempted  to  stop  him. 
But  he  got  between  those  two  generals  and 
Tupelo,  and  got  into  the  town.  The  capture 
of  Tupelo  by  Gen.  A.  J.  Smith  broke  the  spirit 
of  the  Confederates,  and  we  never  did  much 
good  after  that. 

"  Mr.  Chairman,"  declared  Mr.  Allen,  taking 
another  tack  as  the  House  subsided  from  an- 
other fit  of  laughter,  "some  thirty-one  years 
ago  one  of  the  most  prominent  and  brilliant 
young  men  of  my  State,  having  concluded  his 
studies  and  appreciating  the  importance  of  this 
town,  settled  there,  and  afterwards  became  a 
member  of  this  body.  What  he  has  contributed 
to  it,  I  leave  for  others  to  say.  My  modesty 
prevents  me.  (Laughter.) 

"  Now  many  of  you  have  never  been  there. 
I  want  to  invite  you  all  to  come  down.  Oh, 
if  you  could  only  stand  upon  College  Hill  in 
Tupelo  and  see  one  of  our  sunsets.  (Laughter.) 
It  is  very  near  the  centre  of  the  earth.  You 


TKflit  anO  Dumor  of  Smerican  politics  127 

can  stand  there  and  look  around,  and  you  will 
see  the  horizon  just  about  the  same  distance 
from  you  in  every  direction.  (Laughter.)  The 
sun,  when  doing  business  on  a  regular  schedule, 
passes  almost  directly  over  the  town  (laughter), 
and  when  he  does  so,  there  is  a  hot  time  in  the 
old  town.  Such  moons  as  we  have  down 
there,"  he  added  with  fine  expression.  "It  is 
the  only  place  in  the  South  to-day  where  we 
have  the  same  silvery  Southern  moon  that  we 
used  to  have  before  the  war — right  there  at 
Tupelo.  (Laughter.) 

"This,  Mr.  Chairman,  is  a  proposition  to 
establish  a  fish-factory.  Why,  sir,  fish  will 
travel  overland  for  miles  to  get  into  the  water 
we  have  at  Tupelo.  Thousands  and  millions 
of  unborn  fish  are  clamoring  to  this  Congress 
to-day  for  an  opportunity  to  be  hatched  at 
Tupelo."  (Loud  laughter.) 

"I  desire  to  ask  this  gentleman,"  interposed 
Mr.  Cannon, — "not  that  my  advocacy  of  his 
amendment  is  necessary — but  do  I  not  under- 
stand, in  point  of  fact,  the  Committee  on 
Merchant  Marine  and  Fishery  have  made  a 
favorable  report  on  this  proposition  for  a 
hatchery?" 

"Yes,  sir,"  answered  Mr.  Allen,  stoutly; 
"  the  Fish  Commission  recommended  it,  and 


128  TOUt  ano  Dumor  of  Bmerican  politics 

that  committee  of  this  House,  that  good  com- 
mittee of  this  House,  the  Committee  on  Mer- 
chant Marine  and  Fisheries,  has  unanimously 
recommended  the  appropriation.  They  are  en- 
lightened men,  and  they  appreciate  the  im- 
portance of  it." 

The  question  being  taken,  the  amendment  of 
Mr.  Allen  was  agreed  to,  and  the  consideration 
of  the  Sundry  Civil  bill  proceeded. 


CHAPTER  XIV 
"  The  Fourth  Estate" 

Preoccupied 

THE  other  day  a  reporter  called  upon  a  man 
prominent  in  politics  who  had  particular  reason 
just  then  to  be  exasperated  at  the  newspaper 
this  reporter  represented.  Sending  in  his  card, 
the  reporter  waited  in  the  anteroom  until  a 
small  office  boy  beckoned  him  to  step  inside. 
The  politician  sat  at  his  desk,  his  hands  gripping 
the  arms  of  his  chair  and  his  eyes  staring 
straight  ahead  with  the  stern,  fixed  expression 
for  which  the  man  is  noted.  The  reporter  asked 
a  question,  but  the  politician  took  no  heed. 
The  question  was  repeated.  Then  the  politi- 
cian sprang  to  his  feet.  "Jim,"  he  called,  and 
a  muscular  clerk  rushed  in  from  the  outer  room. 
Then  slowly,  and  in  tones  of  icy  distinctness  he 
said,  "  I  want  you  to  bring  my  rifle."  The  last 
word  came  in  a  sort  of  burst,  apparently  of  anger. 
The  use  of  a  rifle  to  repel  the  attacks  of  report- 
ers was  a  new  idea  to  this  one,  and  he  scarcely 
129 


130  TJQit  anfc  tmmoc  of  Bmerican  politics 

knew  whether  to  stand  his  ground  or  flee  for  his 
life.  But  the  politician,  in  his  suavest  tones, 
solved  the  problem.  "  Excuse  me  for  keeping 
you  waiting,"  he  said.  "I  was  a  trifle  preoc- 
cupied. I'm  getting  ready  to  go  to  the  Adiron- 
dacks  to-morrow.  Now,  what  can  I  do  for 
you  ?  ' ' 


A  Talkative  Senator 

Among  the  strong  points  of  United  States 
Senator  Thomas  Collier  Platt,  of  New  York,  is 
his  knowledge  of  human  nature.  He  is  seldom 
mistaken  in  a  man,  and  this  is  a  trait  that  is 
essential  for  political  managers  to  possess.  This 
characteristic  was  never  better  illustrated  than 
by  a  transaction  between  the  Republican  "  boss  " 
and  a  reporter  on  a  New  York  evening  news- 
paper not  long  ago.  Political  matters  were 
warm  in  the  Empire  State,  and  Mr.  Plait's 
views  were  in  great  demand.  One  day  the  city 
editor  of  this  journal  sent  his  best  reporter 
down  to  interview  Mr.  Platt  at  his  business 
office  on  lower  Broadway.  The  reporter  was  a 
favorite  of  the  Senator's,  and  he  had  never  be- 
trayed his  confidence. 

"  What  do  you  want  ?  "  the  Senator  asked. 

"  I  want  your  views  on  the  Brooklyn  fight." 


TKflit  ano  Tbumor  of  Bmerican  politics  131 

"I'm  busy  to-day,"  returned  the  Senator. 
"  You  know  how  I  feel  about  that  matter. 
Write  a  little  piece  about  it  for  me,  and  I'll 
stand  by  it.  Good-bye." 

When  the  reporter  got  back  to  his  office,  the 
city  editor  asked  him  what  he  had. 

"A  talk  with  Platt." 

"  Is  it  a  good  one?" 

"First  class.  How  much  do  you  want  of 
it?" 

"Let  it  run,"  replied  the  city  editor. 

So  the  reporter  turned  out  a  two-column  in- 
terview. The  next  day,  up-town,  the  reporter 
met  the  Senator  in  a  hotel  corridor. 

"  I  was  rather  talkative  yesterday,  wasn't  I?  " 
said  the  latter. 


A  Newspaper  Episode 

Mr.  Henry  Cook,  the  millionaire  Democratic 
candidate  for  the  United  States  Congress  for  the 
Fourteenth  Massachusetts  District,  was  violently 
assailed  by  the  leading  daily  paper  of  that  dis- 
trict. Wishing  to  counteract  the  effect  of  these 
attacks,  he  bought  from  the  proprietors  of  the 
paper  the  right  to  get  out  one  day's  issue,  pay- 
ing for  the  privilege  the  sum  of  $10,000,  be- 
sides meeting  all  the  expenses  of  the  edition. 


132  Wit  an£>  ibumor  ot  Bmerican  politics 

Having  thus  got  it  into  his  hands,  Mr.  Cook 
filled  the  paper  with  condemnation  and  ridicule 
of  its  own  editor.  He  put  in  a  single  adver- 
tisement only — one  for  his  son,  who  is  a 
plumber.  It  is  said  that  the  demand  through- 
out the  State  for  that  day's  edition  of  the  paper 
gave  it  a  circulation  of  a  million  copies. 


CHAPTER  XV 
The  Ladies 

The  Senate  Versus  the  House 

SENATOR  VEST'S  most  famous  anecdote  is  that 
about  Miss  Bertie  Allendale.  It  was  told  when 
the  two  Chambers  were  arrayed  against  each 
other  on  the  tariff  of  1894,  and  the  House  was 
insisting  that  the  country  would  go  without  any 
tariff  act,  unless  the  Senate  was  prepared  to 
forego  its  own  schedules  and  adopt  those  of  the 
House. 

"In  my  younger  days  out  West,"  said  Mr. 
Vest,  "  I  went  to  a  variety  theatre  one  night. 

"  It  was  one  of  those  primitive  shows  where 
the  stage-manager  comes  before  the  footlights 
without  a  coat  and  waistcoat,  and  with  his  shirt 
sleeves  rolled  up  to  the  elbows,  to  announce  the 
next  number  of  the  programme. 

"  '  Miss  Bertie  Allendale,'  remarked  the  stage- 
manager,  appearing  in  one  of  the  interludes, 
'  who  has  entranced  two  hemispheres  with  her 
wonderful  vocal  powers,  will  now  render,  in  her 
133 


134  TKltt  anfc  fnimor  of  Bmertcan  ipolitics 

inimitable  style,  that  exquisite  vocal  selection 
entitled  "  Down  in  the  Valley."  ' 

"  A  gentleman  in  a  red  flannel  shirt  rose  in 
the  midst  of  the  audience  and  exclaimed  in  an 
impressive  bass  voice  :  '  Oh,  thunder  !  Miss 
Allendale  can't  sing  for  green  apples.' 

"The  manager,  who  had  started  to  leave  the 
stage,  halted  and  turned.  An  ugly  light  flashed 
from  the  eye  which  swept  the  audience  and 
finally  rested  on  the  face  of  the  interrupter. 
Raising  one  shoulder  higher  than  the  other, 
letting  one  hand  drift  significantly  towards  his 
hip  pocket,  and  thrusting  his  nether  jaw  for- 
ward in  his  savage  way,  he  observed  with  a  de- 
liberateness  which  emphasized  every  syllable, 
'  Nevertheless  and  notwithstanding,  Miss  Bertie 
Allendale  will  sing  "  Down  in  the  Valley."  ' 

"  And  she  did.  So,  likewise,  nevertheless 
and  notwithstanding,  the  Senate  schedules  will 
stand." 


A  Record  for  Missouri 

A  good  story  is  told  in  Missouri  at  the  ex- 
pense of  its  once  famous  Governor,  Claiborne 
F.  Jackson.  Before  he  solved  the  enigma  of 
love-lock  he  had  married  five  sisters  ! — in  rea- 


and  tbumor  of  Bmcrtcan  {politics  135 

sonable  lapses  of  consecutiveness.  After  one 
wife  had  been  lost  and  appropriately  mourned, 
he  espoused  another;  and  he  kept  his  courting 
within  a  narrow  circle  of  his  own  relatives,  for 
he  rather  liked  the  family. 

The  venerable  father  of  these  girls  was  almost 
deaf,  and  when  the  Governor  went  to  this  octo- 
genarian to  ask  for  his  surviving  daughter,  the 
following  conversation  ensued  : 

"  I  want  Lizzie  !  " 

"Eh?" 

"  I  want  you  to  let  me  have  Eliz-a-beth  !  " 

"  Oh,  you  want  Lizzie,  do  you  ?    What  for  ?  " 

"  For  my  wife  !  "       • 

"For  life?" 

"I  want — to — marry — her  !  " 

"Oh,  yes  !     Just  so,  I  hear  you,  boy." 

"  I'm  precious  glad  you  do  !  "  muttered  the 
Governor. 

"  Well,"  slowly  responded  the  veteran,  "  you 
needn't  halloa  so  that  the  whole  neighborhood 
knows  it !  Yes ;  you  can  have  her.  You've 
got  'em  all  now,  my  lad  ;  but  for  goodness'  sake, 
if  anything  happens  to  that  'ere  poor  misguided 
gal,  don't  come  and  ask  me  for  the  old 
woman  !  " 

Jackson  solemnly  promised  that  he  never 
would. 


0 


136  TWlit  an£>  fjumor  ot  Bmerican  politics 

Thieves  in  the  "  House  " 

The  wife  of  a  well-known  and  very  popular 
member  of  the  House  of  Representatives  once 
told  a  story  on  Senator  Vest  which  was  much 
appreciated. 

The  gentleman  came  in  rather  late  one  night 
after  a  convivial  time.  He  was  tired  and 
sleepy,  and  scarcely  struck  the  bed  before  he 
was  in  a  profound  slumber.  Towards  morning 
his  good  wife  became  alarmed  by  unusual 
noises,  and  immediately  visions  of  plunder  and 
violence  disturbed  her  imagination.  She  shook 
her  spouse  with  vigor  and  cried,  "Jim,  wake 
up;  wake  up  I  "  He  gave  an  extra  snort  and 
snore,  and  turned  over.  She  shook  him  again, 
screaming:  "Jim,  you  must  get  up;  there 
are  thieves  in  the  house  !  " 

Arousing  himself  for  a  moment  he  said : 
"  Oh,  no,  my  dear,  there  are  no  thieves  in  the 
House;  they  are  all  in  the  Senate." 


A  Black  Sheep 

One  of  the  stories  that  the  late  Senator  Palmer 
was  fondest  of  telling,  had  to  do  with  an  aged 
gentlewoman,  bearing  the  same  name  as  him- 
self, who  lives  somewhere  down  on  the  eastern 
shore  of  Virginia,  in  the  county  where  Senator 


Txlit  ano  twmor  of  Hmcrtcan  politics  137 

Palmer's  grandfather  was  born.  One  of  the 
Senator's  Washington  friends  happened  to  meet 
the  old  lady  down  there,  and  asked  her  if  she 
were  not  a  kinswoman  of  his.  She  did  not 
know,  but  thought  perhaps  she  might  be.  The 
gentleman  was  of  Virginian  descent,  was  he 
not  ?  And  in  the  United  States  Senate  ?  Yes, 
she  was  quite  sure  he  was  a  kinsman. 

"  Was  he  in  the  army?  "  she  asked. 

"Yes,"  answered  the  Senator's  friend,  "he 
was  in  the  army  and  a  General." 

The  old  lady  was  positive  that  he  was  a  re- 
lation. 

"  But,"  went  on  the  friend,  "  he  was  a  Gen- 
eral in  the  Union  army." 

The  old  lady's  face  fell,  but  she  rallied. 

"  Well,"  she  said,  "  you  know  there's  a  black 
sheep  in  every  family." 

A  Homely  Bachelor 

A  bachelor  member  of  Congress,  who  is  not 
as  handsome  as  Apollo,  dropped  into  Clerk  Me-      /"*i 
Dowell's  office  the  other  day  to  seek  sympathy,      (., 
because  the  lady  on  whom  he  had  looked  with 
favor  was  about  to  be  married  to  another  man. 

"That  reminds  me,"  said  Mr.  McDowell, 
"  of  an  incident  which  happened  when  Gov. 


138  TWUt  anfc  t)umot  of  Bmerican  Politics 

Dick  Oglesby  went  down  to  Joliet  to  inspect 
the  State  prison.  In  one  of  the  cells  was  a 
very  ugly  man. 

"'How  did  you  get  in  here?'  asked 
Oglesby. 

"'Abduction,'  was  the  reply.  'I  tried  to 
run  off  with  a  girl,  and  they  caught  me.' 

'"I'll  pardon  you  as  soon  as  I  get  back 
to  Springfield,'  said  -the  Governor.  '  I  don't 
see  how  you  could  expect  to  get  a  wife  in  any 
other  way.' ' 

The  homely  bachelor  Congressman  laughed 
loudly.  Then,  as  the  application  of  the  story 
dawned  upon  him,  the  smile  faded  from  his  face, 
and  he  walked  out  of  McDowell's  office  without 
saying  a  word. 


The  Slowness  of  Washington 
In  a  letter  from  Washington,  a  certain  new 
Congressman  notes  the  slow  manner  in  which 
business  is  transacted  in  the  National  Capital, 
and  gives  the  following  story  to  illustrate  it : 

State  Senator  Fitzpatrick,  of  Kansas,  was  in 
Washington  on  Department  business.  He 
couldn't  get  this  business  pushed  through  no 
matter  how  much  he  hurried.  One  day  he  met 
National  Committeeman  Dave  Mulvane,  and 


"WHit  anfc  t>umoc  of  Smerican  politics  139 

complained  that  during  the  whole  day  he 
hadn't  been  able  to  accomplish  a  single  thing. 

"Didn't  you  write  a  letter  to  your  wife?" 
asked  Dave. 

"  Yes,  I  did,"  responded  Fitzpatrick. 

"  Well,  don't  kick.  You  can  do  only  one 
thing  a  day  in  this  city,  and  you've  done  it." 


Classified  Service 

Senator  Burrows  of  Kalamazoo  and  Senator 
McMillan  of  Detroit  are  not  only  colleagues, 
but  also  close  friends.  They  are  given  to 
joking  each  other  at  times.  One  day  Senator 
Burrows  had  occasion  to  go  to  the  Department 
of  Agriculture  in  behalf  of  a  constituent.  On 
his  way  back,  he  met  Senator  McMillan,  who 
stopped  him  and  said  : 

"  Where  have  you  been,  my  son  ?  " 

"Over  to  the  Agricultural  Department,"  re- 
plied Senator  Burrows. 

"Did  you  get  anything?"  asked  Senator 
McMillan. 

"Nothing  but  a  pretty  plant  they  gave  me 
for  my  wife,"  replied  Senator  Burrows.  "That 
was  the  only  thing  I  could  find  that  was  not  in 
the  classified  service." 


140  "edit  ano  twmor  of  Bmerican  politics" 

Didn't  Know  Their  Business 
"Looks  are  not  always  to  be  counted  for 
or  against  a  man,"  said  a  certain  Representative 
in  Congress,  whose  appearance  is  certainly 
against  him,  though  he  has  been  able  very 
largely  to  get  the  better  of  his  handicap,  and  at- 
tain to  more  than  ordinary  Congressional  dis- 
tinction. "  I  recall  an  incident  in  my  own 
career,  after  I  had  served  my  first  term.  I  was 
out  stirring  up  the  back  districts  for  a  reelec- 
tion, and  one  day,  on  my  way  to  a  speech- 
making  appointment,  I  stopped  at  a  mountain 
farmhouse  to  get  dinner.  The  lady  of  the 
house  was  a  talkative  kind  of  a  soul,  and  we 
chatted  along  very  pleasantly  as  I  ate.  At  last 
I  told  her  who  I  was. 

"'Oh,'  she  said,    'you  air  a  Congressman, 
air  you  ? ' 

"  '  I  have  that  honor,  madam,'  I  responded, 
bowing  over  my  plate  of  pork. 
"  '  Where  do  you  work  ? ' 
"  '  The  legislative  part  of  it  is  done  in  Wash- 
ington City.' 

"  '  What  kind  of  wages  do  you  git  ?  ' 
"  '  Five  thousand  dollars  a  year  salary,  madam.' 
"  '  Five  thousand  dollars  a  year  !  '  she  ejacu- 
lated.  '  Why,  this  whole  farm  ain't  wuth  more'n 
a  thousand.' 


lUit  attO  tbumoc  of  American  politics  141 

"'I  presume  not,'  I  said,  not  knowing  ex- 
actly how  to  interpret  her  astonishment. 

"  'And  do  you  mean  to  tell  me  that  you  git 
five  thousand  dollars  a  year  ? '  she  asked,  with 
a  somewhat  unpleasant  emphasis  on  the  '  you.' 

"  '  I  certainly  do,  madam, '  1  assured  her ; 
and  she  went  out,  leaving  the  door  ajar — inad- 
vertently, I  am  sure,  for  she  went  on  talking  to 
some  one  in  the  kitchen,  and  I  could  hear  her. 

"'What  do  you  think,  Mariar  ? '  she  said. 
'  That  man  in  there  eatin'  tells  me  he  gits  five 
thousand  dollars  a  year  fer  bein'  a  Congress- 
man.' 

"'I  reckon  that's  all  right,'  responded  the 
unseen  Maria,  '  fer  I've  heerd  my  husband  say 
that  wuz  what  they  got  reg'ler.' 

"  '  \Yell,  mebbe  they  do,'  said  my  hostess  in 
conclusive  tones  ;  '  but  ef  they  pay  that  man  in 
there  any  sech  wages  as  them,  all  I've  got  to 
say  is  that  the  man  that  hires  Congressmen 
don't  know  his  business.'  " 


The  Governor's  Son 

The  mention  of  ladies  in  politics  naturally 
suggests  the  children,  concerning  whom  several 
good  stories  are  here  given. 

During  the  late  ex-Governor  Wolcott's  term 


142  iciit  anD  f)umor  of  Smerican  politics 

of  office,  his  youngest  son,  Oliver,  was  in  one  of 
the  primary  classes  of  a  school.  The  teacher 
was  one  day  asking  questions  of  her  little  pupils, 
to  give  them  a  chance  to  show  what  they  knew 
about  one  thing  and  another,  for  the  entertain- 
ment of  a  lady  who  was  visiting  the  school,  and 
she  finally  inquired  : 

"  Can  any  one  tell  me  who  is  the  Governor 
of  Massachusetts  ?  " 

No  one  could  tell,  not  even  little  Oliver. 

The  teacher  then  told  every  one  of  the  pupils 
when  he  got  home  to  ask  his  father,  so  as  to  be 
ready  to  tell  her  the  next  day.  Accordingly, 
when  the  class  assembled  the  following  morning, 
she  gave  out  the  question,  calling  on  Oliver  to 
see  what  he  might  have  to  say  about  it.  Oliver 
answered  : 

"  Pa  says  he's  the  Governor.  But  I  don't 
believe  it,  'cause  he's  always  making  fun  of 
everythin'." 


"Early  to  Bed" 

A  member  of  Congress  who  shall  be  nameless, 
but  who  sits  very  close  to  Representative 
Loudenslager,  of  New  Jersey,  on  the  floor  of  the 
House,  has  an  eight  year  old  son.  Yesterday, 
he  told  Mr.  Loudenslager  this  story : 


an£>  tumor  of  Bmcrican  politics  143 

"Last  night,"  he  said,  "  about  nine  o'clock, 
I  told  my  boy  that  it  was  time  to  go  to  bed. 
He  wasn't  a  bit  anxious  to  obey  me,  and  I  had 
to  speak  to  him  -two  or  three  times  pretty 
sharply.  Finally  I  said  to  him  that  there  was 
an  old  adage  which  always  came  true,  and 
which  he  ought  to  learn  and  remember.  Then 
I  quoted  to  him  the  old  lines  : 

"  '  Early  to  bed  and  early  to  rise 

Makes  a  man  healthy,  wealthy,  and  wise.' 

"  My  boy  looked  at  me  for  a  moment,"  con- 
tinued the  Congressman,  "and  then  he  said: 
'  Pop,  you  didn't  go  to  bed  early  when  you  were 
a  boy,  did  you?  '  " 

"  You  certainly  have  a  bright  boy,"  observed 
Mr.  Loudenslager,  and  the  Congressman  didn't 
know  whether  to  take  it  as  a  compliment  or  not. 

The  Reason  He  Was  Popular 
One  winter,  Representative  Sutherland  took 
quite  a  fancy  to  one  of  the  House  pages,  and 
had  him  at  his  house  frequently.  He  noticed 
the  next  winter,  the  boy  was  not  around  as 
much  as  before,  although  he  saw  him  at  the 
House  often. 

"  How  is  it,  my  boy,"  said  Mr.  Sutherland  to 
the  page,  affectionately  putting  his  arm  about 


144  Trait  ano  tw'mor  of  american  politics 

his  shoulders,  "that  I  do  not  see  much  of  you 
any  more  ?  Last  winter  you  used  to  come  up  to 
my  house  very  often,  and  I  don't  think  you 
have  been  there  this  winter  at  all." 
-  "Well,  you  see,  Mr.  Sutherland,"  said  the 
page,  after  some  hesitation,  "you  ain't  re- 
elected." 


"  Cyclops  "  in  the  Senate 

Some  of  the  little  pages  in  Congress  are  mere 
babes,  and  their  adolescence  sometimes  causes 
laughable  blunders.  Here  is  a  case  in  point : 

Senator  Tillman  called  a  page  to  him  one 
day,  and  asked  him  the  name  of  a  new  Senator 
who  was  sitting  on  the  Republican  side  of  the 
Chamber.  The  page,  being  a  recent  appointee, 
was  not  only  ignorant  of  the  new  Senator's 
name,  but  did  not  even  know  Tillman.  In  his 
dilemma,  he  went  to  Journal  Clerk  Macdonald. 

"  Who  is  the  man  with  one  eye  ?  "  he  asked, 
referring  to  Mr.  Tillman. 

"  Cyclops,"  replied  Macdonald,  without  look- 
ing up  from  his  book,  and  thinking  of  the  gen- 
tleman who  figures  in  ancient  mythology. 

The  boy  rushed  back  to  Tillman.  "  Now, 
Senator  Cyclops,"  he  said  triumphantly,  "  I 
will  go  and  find  out  the  other  Senator's  name." 


CHAPTER  XVI 
Political  Retorts 

A  Clover  Club  Dinner 

THE  Clover  Club  dinners  at  Philadelphia  are 
renowned  for  the  distinguished  guests,  the 
unbridled  chaffing,  the  brilliant  speeches,  and 
the  unique  key-note  of  the  gathering — that  no 
one  shall  object  to  anything  that  is  said. 

Cabinet  Ministers,  Senators,  great  lawyers, 
statesmen,  financiers,  and  even  the  President  of 
the  United  States,  sit,  at  one  time  or  another, 
around  the  genial  board  in  Philadelphia. 

It  was  only  fit  that  the  witticism  concerning 
Pennsylvania  politics  should  be  made  at  this 
gathering.  Mr.  Lincoln  Eyre  was  the  creator 
of  it.  Mr.  Eyre  is  one  of  the  bright  young 
lawyers  of  the  city,  a  keen  debater,  daring  in 
speech,  quick  in  his  choice  of  words. 

While  he  was  speaking  of  the  condition  of 

politics  in  Pennsylvania,  a  prominent  guest  at 

the  table,  thinking  to  confuse  the  young  lawyer, 

called    to   him  :     "  Oh  !    give   us   the   briefest 

145 


146  "edit  ano  tmmor  of  Bmerfcan  politics 

definition  of  the  political  condition  here,  and  we 
will  go  on  with  our  dinner." 

Mr.  Eyre  turned  quickly  to  the  speaker  while 
a  hundred  faces  laughed  up  at  his. 

"Your  request  shall  be  granted,"  he  said, 
"  and  I  will  give  you  the  condition  in  Latin. 
It  is  sine  qua  (Quay)  n0n." 


Colonel  versus  Congressman 
One  evening  some  time  ago,  there  was  an  im- 
promptu gathering  of  story-tellers  in  the  rotunda 
of  the  Phcenix  Hotel,  including  Senator  Joseph 
W.  Bailey,  of  Texas,  Ex-Governor  James  B. 
McCreary,  of  Madison  County,  and  Jacob  T. 
Patrick,  of  Salyersville,  a  well-known  mountain 
Republican.  Governor  McCreary  several  times 
addressed  Mr.  Patrick  as  "  Judge,"  to  which 
the  latter  finally  replied  : 

"  Governor,  I  am  not  a  Judge,  and  never 
was ;  and  more  than  that,  I  have  no  title,  mili- 
tary, judicial,  or  professional.  I  am  plain  Jake 
Patrick,  the  only  strictly  private  citizen  in  the 
entire  Commonwealth  of  Kentucky.  I  am  not 
even  '  Mister. ' ' ' 

"  Well,  sir,"  spoke  up  the  Texas  statesman, 
"  you  are  unique.  I  should  think  you  ought 
to  be  at  least  a  '  Colonel,'  as  I  have  always  un- 


Wit  and  twmor  of  Hmerican  politics  147 

derstood  that  in  Kentucky,  it  is  the  easiest  and 
cheapest  thing  in  the  world  to  be  a  '  Colonel.'  " 

"  There  is  something  in  that,"  was  Patrick's 
quick  response  ;  "  it  is  almost  as  easy  and  cheap 
to  be  a  '  Colonel '  in  Kentucky  as  to  be  a  Con- 
gressman in  Texas." 

The  laugh  was  on  Bailey  and  he  squared  the 
matter  by  asking  the  crowd  to  refresh  itself  at 
his  expense. 


"  If  Jackson  Was  Alive  To-day  " 

In  opposing  the  recent  resolution  in  the  Mis- 
souri House  of  Representatives,  which  provided 
for  an  appropriate  Jefferson  City  celebration  of 
the  anniversary  of  New  Orleans  and  the  honor- 
ing of  the  memory  of  Andrew  Jackson,  Repre- 
sentative Murphy,  Republican,  of  St.  Louis,  did 
not  accomplish  much  beyond  placing  himself 
on  record  as  perpetuating  an  exceptionally  pure 
example  of  the  Irish  bull. 

"  Present  day  Democrats,"  declared  Mr. 
Murphy  with  fine  fervor,  "  have  little  reason  to 
feel  proud  of  Andy  Jackson.  And  if  Andy 
Jackson  was  alive  to-day,"  Mr.  Murphy  ear- 
nestly concluded,  "  he  would  be  glad  he  was 
dead." 


148  "Wfllt  anfc  tumor  of  Bmerican  politics 

An  All  Night  Session 

"Many  years  ago,"  said  an  old  employee  of 
the  House,  "  we  had  a  very  exciting  night  ses- 
sion. At  four  o'clock  in  the  morning  the  ser- 
geant-at-arms  was  sent  out  for  absentees.  Among 
other  calls,  he  went  for  Congressman  Blank,  who 
lived  at  the  Metropolitan  Hotel. 

"  Thundering  at  the  door  he  awoke  the  legis- 
lator and  announced  his  errand.  The  honor- 
able gentleman,  who  hailed  from  South  Carolina, 
gruffly  and  briefly  ordered  the  official  to  go  to 
hades.  Returning  to  the  House,  the  sergeant- 
at-arms  advanced  before  the  Speaker  and  said  : 

"  'Mr.  Speaker,  I  summoned  Mr.  Blank  and 
he  told  me  to  go  to  hades ;  and  I  have 
come ' 

"Here  he  was  interrupted  by  a  shout  of 
laughter,  which  prevented  him  from  completing 
his  sentence.  The  House  got  in  a  good  humor 
after  this  break,  and  adjourned." 


Patriotism  or  Salary 

A  prominent  city  officer  who  entered  politics 
and  obtained  a  good  office  during  a  "  reform  " 
movement  some  years  ago,  in  the  course  of  a 
public  speech,  after  he  was  in  office,  said : 


UClit  anD  tumor  of  Bmertcan  poUttce  149 

"  My  fellow  citizens,  I  entered  politics  as  a  mat- 
ter of  pure  patriotism." 

"  What's  your  salary  ?  "  asked  a  man  in  the 
audience,  and  when  another  man  shouted,  "It's 
$7,500  a  year  !  "  the  speaker  confined  his  sub- 
sequent remarks  to  abuse  of  the  opposition. 


Harrison  Consumes  "  Fuel  " 

Benjamin  Harrison,  an  ancestor  of  our  ex- 
President  and  a  signer  of  the  Declaration  of  In- 
dependence, was  fond  of  the  good  things  of  this 
life.  While  a  member  of  the  First  Congress, 
which  met  in  Philadelphia,  he  was,  on  one  oc- 
casion, joined  by  a  friend  as  he  left  the  Con- 
gressional Hall.  Wishing  to  ask  his  friend  to 
join  him  in  a  bumper,  he  took  him  to  a  certain 
place  and  called  for  two  glasses  of  brandy  and 
water.  The  man  in  charge  replied  that  liquors 
were  not  included  in  the  supplies  furnished  to 
Congressmen. 

"  What  is  it,  then,  that  I  see  New  England 
members  come  here  and  drink  ?  " 

"  Molasses  and  water,  which  they  have 
charged  to  stationery,"  was  the  reply. 

"Very  well,"  said  Harrison,  "give  me 
brandy  and  water  and  charge  it  as  fuel." 


150  "Wait  ano  Dumoc  of  Smerican  politics 

A  Big  Democratic  Gain 

Grosvenor  of  Ohio  and  Champ  Clark  of 
Missouri  met  one  day  for  the  first  time  since 
they  engaged  in  a  joint  debate  at  the  Mountain 
Lake  Park. 

"  Hello,  Champ  !  "  said  Grosvenor.  "  How 
did  you  get  through  the  campaign?  " 

"Splendidly,"  replied  Clark.  "I  gained 
twenty-five  pounds." 

"Well,"  commented  Grosvenor,  "I  con- 
gratulate you.  That  is  the  first  Democratic 
gain  of  which  I  have  heard." 

An  Alabama  Moonshiner 

Representative  Clayton,  of  Alabama,  recently 
told  this  story :  "I  was  Government  revenue 
official  down  in  my  State,  and  when  I  started 
in,  I  wished  to  make  a  record.  I  haled  an  old 
fellow  into  court  for  selling  moonshine  whiskey. 
When  I  got  him  on  the  stand,  I  asked  him 
plump  out : 

"  'Did  you  ever  make  any  moonshine  whis- 
key?' 

"  The  old  man  looked  at  me  with  tears  in  his 
eyes.  'Henry,'  he  said,  'I  knowed  your  fa- 
ther, and  he  never  would  have  asked  me  no 
such  question  as  that.' 

"I  let  him  go." 


and  twmor  of  Bmerican  politics  151 

Country  Highwaymen 

Sam  Rawson  occasionally  said  a  good  thing, 
and  one  of  these  occasions  chanced  to  be  the 
Town-meeting.  The  people  of  Sam's  village 
could  not  understand  how  the  money  appropri- 
ated for  the  roads  had  vanished  with  such  poor 
results. 

A  stretch  of  road  running  past  Sam's  house 
was  in  notoriously  poor  condition,  although 
Sam  declared  that  he  had  paid  liberally  to  have 
it  put  in  good  order,  and  there  was  general  in- 
terest when  Sam  rose  to  make  his  statement  be- 
fore the  selectmen. 

"  I'd  just  like  to  say  one  thing,"  he  drawled, 
heedless  of  the  fact  that  he  had  interrupted  an 
indignant  neighbor.  "  I  don't  want  to  make 
any  fuss,  but  I'd  just  like  to  ask  the  honorable 
board  of  highwaymen " 

That  was  as  far  as  he  could  get.  A  roar  of 
laughter  swept  over  the  Town-meeting  and 
showed  its  effects  in  the  red  faces  of  the  "high- 
waymen." 


Corn  in  Kansas 

When  the  House  River  and  Harbor  Com- 
mittee was  sitting  up  nights  with  its  appropria- 
tion bill,  a  hearing  was  given  one  evening  to 


152  "Odtt  ano  Dumor  of  Bmerican  politics 

Colonel  "  Pete  "  Hepburn  and  others  of  adjoining 
States,  to  plead  in  behalf  of  the  Missouri  River. 
Colonel  Hepburn  held  the  floor  and,  with  his 
usual  eloquence  and  persuasive  power,  was  dis- 
coursing on  the  great  commerce  of  that  water- 
way and  the  wonderful  fertility  of  the  adjoining 
lands. 

"Why,  gentlemen,"  he  declared,  "the  soil 
is  deep  and  mellow;  corn  grows  twenty  feet 
high  there." 

"And  has  seven  ears  on  a  stalk,"  broke  in 
Representative  Charlie  Curtis,  of  Kansas,  mis- 
chievously. 

"  And  there  is  shelled  corn  where  the  pith  of 
the  ear  ought  to  be,"  asserted  Representative 
Dave  Mercer  of  Nebraska. 

Colonel  Hepburn  was  abashed  at  this  inter- 
ruption of  his  eloquence.  "  That  is  a  Kansas 
and  a  Nebraska  lie,"  he  retorted,  following  a 
brief  pause.  "  I  do  not  indorse  it." 


Too  Poor  to  Lose 

Several  years  ago  a  Southern  Kansas  politician 
who  had  an  excellent  reputation  for  not  paying 
his  debts,  found  himself  a  defendant  in  a  law- 
suit. He  employed  Archie  Williams,  now  gen- 
eral attorney  for  the  Union  Pacific,  to  defend 


•watt  ano  fjumot  of  amerfcan  politics  153 

him.  Williams  won  the  case.  After  the  ver- 
dict for  the  defendant  was  returned,  the  poli- 
tician asked  Mr.  Williams  the  amount  of  his 
fee. 

"It  is  $200,"  said  Williams. 

"Great  Scott,  Archie,"  said  the  politician, 
"  that  isn't  enough.  Why,  you  earned  $1,000, 
and  you  must  make  out  your  bill  for  that 
amount." 

"  No,  I  won't  do  it,"  replied  Williams.  "  I 
am  too  poor  a  man.  Two  hundred  is  all  I  can 
afford  to  lose." 


Time    For  Him  to  Leave 

Some  years  ago  Idaho  sent  a  man  to  the  Sen- 
ate whose  name  was  McConnell.  He  enjoyed 
a  brief  term  of  about  five  or  six  weeks,  and  then 
he  disappeared.  Yesterday  Mr.  McConnell 
visited  the  Senate  Chamber  again.  Very  few  of 
the  Senators  knew  him. 

His  presence,  however,  recalled  the  fact  that 
when  he  was  in  the  Senate,  he  lifted  up  his 
voice  and  delivered  a  speech.  He  was  then  an 
almost  utter  stranger.  Old  Senator  Edmunds 
looked  at  him  in  astonishment. 

"  Who  is  this  man  talking  ?  "  asked  Edmunds 
of  a  page. 


154  TKatt  ano  f)umor  of  Bmerican  politics 

"Senator  McConnell,  of  Idaho,"  responded 
the  boy. 

"  Well,"  said  Edmunds,  "  when  it  comes  to 
the  point  that  in  the  United  States  Senate  a 
man  whom  I  never  saw  before  can  make  a 
speech,  I  think  it  is  time  for  me  to  leave." 

And  then  Mr.  Edmunds,  in  disgust,  retired 
to  the  cloak-room. 

The  Way  They  Do  in  Mississippi 
The  manner  of  conducting  elections  in  the 
several  States  was  under  discussion  in  the  cloak- 
room in  connection  with  a  number  of  contested 
election  cases  pending  before  House  committees. 
John  Allen  was  defending,  with  unusual  warmth 
and  vigor,  the  manner  of  conducting  elections 
in  his  own  State,  Mississippi.  He  waxed  elo- 
quent on  the  subject,  and  was  in  the  midst  of  a 
most  forceful  argument,  when,  happening  to 
glance  around  the  cloak-room,  he  noticed  the 
looks  of  incredulity  and  amusement  on  the  faces 
of  some  of  his  former  colleagues  in  the  House. 
John  stammered,  halted,  and  closed  with  : 

"Well — well,  it  is  true  that  we  have  fair 
elections  in  Mississippi,  but  every  election  morn- 
ing just  before  the  polls  open,  we  fire  off  a  few 
guns  and  cannon,  just  to  let  the  negroes  know 
that  it  is  to  be  a  fair  election." 


TWlit  anD  Ibumoc  of  american  politics  155 

Not  So  Sure  He  Was  Right 

Senator  Julius  Caesar  Burrows,  of  Michigan, 
met  Mr.  Bryan  in  the  marble  room  of  the  Sen- 
ate one  day. 

"Senator,"  said  the  Colonel,  "I  believe  that 
you  favor  the  election  of  Senators  by  the 
people. ' ' 

' '  I  have  always  voted  that  way, ' '  responded 
Mr.  Burrows. 

"Well,"  replied  Bryan,  "I  seldom  have  a 
chance  to  agree  with  a  Republican,  but  in  this 
case,  I  stand  with  you." 

"  Which  makes  me  think,"  returned  Burrows, 
good  humoredly,  "that  if  you  think  as  I  do,  I 
may  have  made  a  mistake." 


Repartee  in  the  Senate 

In  these  days  of  Tillmanism,  when,  if  Sen- 
ators are  not  slugging  their  colleagues,  they  may 
be  calling  each  other  liars,  the  following  cour- 
teous interchange  of  verbal  shafts,  that  are 
pointed  but  not  poisoned,  will  be  read  with 
interest : 

Mr.  Bailey: — "The  Senator  from  Wisconsin 
is  so  good  a  lawyer  that  he  knows  when  he  is 
coming  up  against  a  hard  proposition,  and  he 
goes  around  it." 


156  "Watt  anD  tumor  ot  Bmerfcan  politics 

Mr.  Spooner : — "I  may  have  gone  around 
the  Senator,  but  I  did  not  go  around  the  propo- 
sition." (Laughter.) 

Mr.  Bailey: — "I  am  ready  to  concede  that 
the  Senator  from  Wisconsin  can  easily  get 
around  me,  small  as  he  is." 

Mr.  Spooner: — "The  man  who  can  go 
around  the  Senator  can  go  around  anything." 


CHAPTER  XVII 

Some  Personal   * '  Appreciations  ' ' 

David  B.  Hill 

THE  Hon.  David  Bennett  Hill  is  nothing  if  not 
vigorous  and  terse  in  his  mode  of  speech.  When 
in  the  Senate,  he  was  always  of  the  sledge- 
hammer type  of  speaker,  and  it  would  seem 
that  he  has  not  grown  rusty  in  this  art  during 
his  retirement  at  Wolfert's  Roost.  It  was  just 
after  the  Kansas  City  Convention  that  he 
delivered  himself  of  a  characteristic  speech  on 
the  making  of  Presidents.  He  was  returning 
from  his  struggle  there  to  maintain  a  semblance 
of  conservatism  before  the  convention,  when  he 
was  accosted  by  a  friend  who  persisted  in  ask- 
ing him  all  manner  of  questions:  what  he 
thought  of  the  platform,  what  he  thought  of 
the  chairman,  what  he  thought  of  Croker,  and 
finally,  what  he  thought  of  Bryan  as  standard- 
bearer.  The  ex-Senator  pushed  back  his  hat 
until  his  bald  head  became  visible,  and  pulling 
fiercely  at  his  mustache,  replied  : 
157 


158  Wit  anO  -fcumor  of  american  politics 

"Oh,  well,  Presidents  are  very  much  like 
sausages." 

"  How  so?  "  asked  the  astonished  questioner. 

"  Oh,  you  like  'em  better  when  you  don't  see 
'em  made,"  replied  the  ex-Senator. 


General  Harrison 

"General  Harrison,"  said  Senator  P , 

"  was  one  of  the  strongest,  soundest,  ablest  men 
we  have  had  in  public  life.  He  was  always  re- 
served, and  was  rather  handicapped  by  an 
unresponsive,  cold  manner.  Why,  I  remem- 
ber  "  and  here  the  Senator  began  to 

chuckle  to  himself,  and  the  whole  table  leaned 
forward  full  of  expectation.  The  Senator 
went  on : 

"  When  Harrison  was  in  the  Senate,  he  al- 
ways used  to  bring  his  luncheon  to  the  com- 
mittee-room. He  carried  it  in  his  coat-pocket, 
and  would  eat  it  while  he  went  on  with  his 
work.  One  day,  when  he  got  it  out  as  usual 
from  his  pocket,  we  saw  him  look  it  all  over 
ruefully,  and  it  did  look  rather  flat  and  dubious. 
He  finally  remarked  to  us  that  he  guessed  he 
must  have  sat  on  it  accidentally.  One  of  his 
colleagues,  who  had  recently  been  ignored  by 
Harrison,  spoke  up  impulsively.  'Well,  by 


lUit  and  t)umor  of  Bmerican  politics  159 

Jove,  Harrison,  if  you've  sat  on  it,  I'll  bet  you 
a  sixpence  it  is  frozen  solid ; '  and  of  course  a 
shout  went  up  from  the  whole  committee." 

"  How  did  he  take  it  ?  "  asked  I,  when  the 
merriment  had  died  away. 

"Oh,"  returned  the  Senator,  "he  joined  in 
the  laugh.  It  was  too  good  a  one  on  him  and 
he  had  to  unbend." 


A  Pennsylvania  Congressman 

Marriott  Brosius,  Congressman  from  the 
Tenth  District  of  Pennsylvania,  has  a  voice 
that  is  famous. 

Not  long  ago,  a  member  of  the  House  was 
passing  out  of  the  front  door  of  the  Capitol 
with  a  friend,  when  they  heard  a  crash  behind 
them  as  of  distant  thunder. 

"  What  was  that  noise?  "  inquired  the  friend. 

"I  don't  know,"  replied  the  Congressman, 
"unless  it  was  Brosius  whispering." 

Senator  Jones  or  Senator  Morgan 
The  strained  relations  between  Senator  Vest, 
of  Missouri,  and  Senator  Morgan,  of  Alabama, 
are  well  understood  by  those  who  "know  the 
ropes"  in  Washington.  The  story  is  told  of  a 
new  Senator  who  had  been  offended  by  a  col- 


160  TKHit  ano  Dumor  of  American  politics 

league,  and  who  approached  Senator  Vest  and 
said:  "Isn't  Jones  the  worst  ass  that  ever 
broke  into  public  life  ?  "  The  frail  and  vener- 
able statesman  from  Missouri  is  reported  to  have 
replied  :  "I  can't  say.  You  know  I  am  pretty 
thoroughly  committed  on  that  proposition  to 
Morgan." 


Governor  Odell  of  New  York 

Gov.  Benjamin  B.  Odell,  Jr.,  and  his  aged 
father  were  talking  with  a  group  of  political 
friends  in  the  Fifth  Avenue  Hotel  during  a  re- 
cent visit  to  New  York,  when  reference  was  made 
to  the  unanimity  with  which  Odell  was  nomi- 
nated for  Governor. 

"Why,  I  wasn't  nominated  at  all,"  said  the 
Governor  with  a  laugh. 

"Who  was  then?"  asked  Chairman  Ten 
Eyck. 

"My  father,"  replied  the  Governor.  "The 
convention  paid  no  attention  to  the  '  Jr. '  part  of 
my  name,  and  nominated  Benjamin  B.  Odell. 
That's  father.  When  I  got  home  after  the  con- 
vention, I  explained  to  father,  and  told  him  he 
had  been  nominated. 

"  '  Well,  Ben,'  said  father,  '  mebby  that's  so, 
but  I  guess  everybody  thinks  it's  you,  and  you'd 


IUit  and  twmor  ot  Smerican  politics  161 

better  take  it  anyway.'  So  I  did,  but  I've  often 
thought  father  would  make  the  better  Governor." 

Odell,  Sr.,  had  listened  to  his  son's  story  with 
a  quiet  twinkle  in  his  fine  old  eyes. 

Then  he  said : 

"  Ben,  did  you  suppose  that  after  having  been 
Mayor  of  Newburg  for  the  last  forty  years,  I 
would  stoop  to  run  for  a  State  office?" 

There  was  a  general  laugh  and  it  was  up  to 
the  Governor. 

Senator  Vest 

When  the  Senate  Committee  on  Commerce 
was  in  session  one  day,  Senator  Vest's  chair 
became  unruly,  and  he  was  finally  compelled  to 
occupy  another  one. 

"Vest,"  said  Senator  Mason,  "you  are  get- 
ting too  fat  and  heavy,  otherwise  that  chair 
would  not  have  gone  back  on  you." 

"Heavy!"  exclaimed  Vest,  as  he  looked  at 
his  diminutive  form.  "  I  couldn't  break  an  egg 
if  I  fell  on  it !" 

The  Speaker  of  the  House 
Many  years  ago  an  Allen  county  man  an- 
nounced himself  as  a  candidate  for  the  Legisla- 
ture. 


162  TJGltt  an&  t>umor  of  American  politics 

"  But  you  can't  make  a  speech,"  objected  a 
-friend. 

"Oh,  that  doesn't  make  any  difference,"  in- 
nocently responded  the  candidate,  "for  the 
House  always  elects  a  speaker." 

A  Georgia  Judge 

"Judge  William  Underwood  was  one  of  the 
best  men  my  State  ever  produced,"  said  Repre- 
sentative Adamson  of  Georgia  the  other  day. 
"  He  spoke  the  truth  on  every  occasion.  His  son 
John  wanted  an  office  under  Governor  Crawford, 
and  asked  him  for  a  '  certificate  of  character. ' 
The  father  complied,  and  wrote  to  the  Governor 
as  follows : 

"  '  My  dear  Friend  :  This  will  be  handed  to 
you  by  my  son,  John.  He  has  the  greatest 
thirst  for  an  office  with  the  least  capacity  to  fill 
one  of  any  fellow  you  ever  saw. ' 

"John  didn't  get  the  office,  but  his  father 
lived  to  see  him  a  shrewd  politician  and  a  fine 
lawyer." 

A  New  York  Democrat 

Mayor  Varian,  one  of  New  York's  early  chief 
officers,  was  a  rugged,  uneducated,  popular 
Democratic  politician.  While  Mayor  Varian 


TIClit  and  tmmot  of  Bmetican  politics  163 

was  a  State  Senator,  Mayor  Bowne  accosted  him 
one  day  while  reading  a  newspaper  in  front  of 
the  Stanwix  House  in  Albany. 

"I  see  we  have  a  new  Street-Cleaning  Com- 
missioner in  the  city,"  said  Varian. 

"Indeed,"  answered  Bowne.  "I  have  not 
heard  of  him.  Who  is  he?  " 

Varian  read  from  the  newspaper:  "'Last 
night,  Old  Boreas  came  to  town  ;  and,  thanks  to 
his  efforts,  the  streets  this  morning  are  in  a  pass- 
ably fair  condition.'  "  "Old  Boreas,"  added 
Varian,  reflectively.  "  I  thought  I  knew  every 
Democrat  in  New  York,  but  I  never  heard  of 
him." 


"  Uncle  Joe  "  Cannon 

Senator  Hoar  has  never  been  accused  of  being 
a  humorist.  In  fact,  he  is,  as  a  rule,  the  grav- 
est of  all  "the  grave  and  reverent  Senators." 
But  occasionally,  he  shows  that  he  has  a  spark 
of  the  humorous  in  his  composition.  One  day 
recently,  the  Massachusetts  statesman,  "Uncle 
Joe"  Cannon,  and  several  others  were  talking 
about  a  certain  speech  attributed  to  Charles 
Sumner.  Senator  Hoar  expressed  conviction 
that  Mr.  Sumner  had  not  said  a  number  of  things 
attributed  to  him  by  the  record,  and  "  Uncle 


164  TMUt  anfc  tumor  of  Smerlcan  politics 

Joe  "  contended  that  there  was  no  sort  of  doubt 
about  his  having  said  them.  The  discussion 
was  becoming  warm  and  interesting  when  Sen- 
ator Hoar,  as  if  to  bring  it  to  a  close,  exclaimed  : 

"  When  I  die  and  go  to  heaven  I  will  look  up 
Charles  Sumner  at  the  earliest  possible  moment 
and  say  to  him  :  '  Charlie,  I  am  sure  you  never 
said  the  things  attributed  to  you  by  the  record.' ' 

"But  suppose  you  do  not  find  him  there?  " 
"  Uncle  Joe  "  asked  with  his  blandest  smile. 

"  In  that  event,  Joe,"  said  the  veteran  Massa- 
chusetts statesman,  without  moving  a  muscle  of 
his  face,  "  I  will  have  to  beg  that  you  deliver 
the  message  to  him." 


Governor  in  Name  Only 

The  reply  of  a  foreigner  who  was  being 
naturalized  in  Pennsylvania  to  the  question  who 
was  President  of  the  United  States,  that  he  was 
Mark  Hanna,  recalls  an  anecdote  familiar  in 
the  last  generation,  but  which  may  be  new 
to  some  in  the  present  one.  The  scene  of  it 
was  on  a  stage-coach  in  stage-coach  days  in 
New  York.  William  H.  Seward,  then  Gover- 
nor of  the  State,  was  riding  there,  and  en- 
countered a  fellow-traveler  who  did  not  know 
him.  They  got  into  a  discussion  on  politics,  in 


Trait  ano  twmor  ot  Hmerican  politics  165 

the  course  of  which  Governor  Seward  told  the 
traveler  who  he  was.  The  man  treated  it  as  a 
joke,  and  steadily  refused  to  credit  it  as  any- 
thing else.  This  finally  nettled  Mr.  Seward, 
and  he  said  to  him :  "I  will  prove  to  you 
that  I  ana  Governor  Seward.  There  is  the 
stage-driver  outside,  who  knows  me  well;  we 
will  refer  the  case  to  him."  When  the  stage 
stopped,  therefore,  the  two  approached  the 
driver,  and  Mr.  Seward  came  with  the  query, 
"Am  I  not  Governor  of  New  York?" 
"  No ! "  was  the  driver's  prompt  and  curt 
response.  Mr.  Seward  amazed  and  bewildered, 
next  asked:  "  Who  is,  then?"  "  Thurlow 
Weed !  "  came  swiftly  back  in  reply.  It  is 
needless  to  say  that  the  driver  was  a  sturdy 
Democrat. 


A  Tennessee  Governor 

A  certain  State  Governor  was  noted  for  being 
as  tender-hearted  as  a  woman,  and  the  way  he 
pardoned  convicts  was  something  appalling.  He 
was  waited  upon  by  a  committee  of  the  Legis- 
lature, who  very  flatly,  and  in  no  uncertain 
way,  told  him  that  this  "wholesale  pardoning 
must  stop." 

"Gov'nor   Bob"   looked  at  the  committee, 


166  "edit  anfc  t>umor  of  Smerican  politics 

tapped  a  bell,  asked  for  his  pardon  clerk,  and 
when  he  came  said,  "Make  out  pardons  for 
every  man  in  the  penitentiary." 

The  clerk  bowed  and  withdrew. 

Then  the  Governor  looked  at  the  committee, 
who  were  staring  as  if  they  thought  he  was 
going  mad. 

"Gentlemen,"  he  said,  finally,  "I  am  Gov- 
ernor of  Tennessee,  and  if  this  committee  or 
any  other  ever  again  seeks  to  interfere  with  my 
constitutional  right  to  pardon,  I'll  sign  every 
one  of  those  pardons  which  the  clerk  is  making 
out.  Good-morning  !  " 


A  Reply  That  "Turned  the  Tide" 
While  Governor  Shaw  of  Iowa  is  very  much 
given  to  quoting  statistics  and  to  dry  logic 
in  his  speeches,  he  occasionally  introduces  a 
good  story,  and  is  also  quick  at  repartee  when 
interrupted.  Several  times  this  latter  ability 
has  served  him  in  good  stead.  It  was  out  in 
Nebraska  last  year  that  the  Governor  addressed 
a  meeting  that  was  especially  troublesome.  A 
number  of  the  long-whiskered  Populists  were 
rather  inclined  to  doubt  the  statements  made  by 
him  on  the  gold  and  tariff  questions.  To  make 
the  situation  the  more  embarrassing,  a  half- 


"Cdlt  ano  f>umot  of  Zlmerfcan  politics  167 

drunken  fellow  in  the  back  part  of  the  room 
broke  out  several  times,  and  had  to  be  quieted. 

The  Governor  waited  patiently  his  opportu- 
nity to  get  in  a  telling  blow  that  would  turn  the 
laughter  and  ridicule  against  the  offenders. 
Several  times  questions  were  asked,  and  were 
answered  by  the  speaker  without  any  signs 
of  irritation  being  shown.  A  man  well  down  in 
front  insisted  on  asking  a  question  every  five 
minutes  on  an  average.  He  usually  prefaced 
them  by  such  remarks  as  "Just  a  minute, 
please,"  or  "Let  me  interrupt  for  a  minute." 
In  an-  unhappy  moment  he  broke  in  with, 

"Pardon  me,  but "  Before  he  could 

finish,  the  Governor,  a  rather  self-satisfied  look 
spreading  over  his  face,  replied:  "Well,  I've 
pardoned  lots  worse  fellows  than  you  in  my 
time,  and  I  suppose  it  would  be  unjust  to  draw 
the  line  here." 

The  fellow  sat  down,  and  during  the  remain- 
ing two  hours  of  the  address,  there  were  no 
more  interruptions. 


Thomas  B.   Reed 

Many  stories  have  been  told  of  the  late 
Thomas  B.  Reed  that  show  his  ever-ready  wit. 
On  one  occasion  he  had  made  an  appointment 


168  TRflit  ano  Dumor  of  Bmerfcan  politics 

with  a  friend  who  lived  in  a  town  some  distance 
from  Washington.  He  was  impatiently  protest- 
ing at  his  tardiness,  when  a  telegram  brought 
an  explanation  of  its  cause. 

"Washout  on  the  line,"  ran  the  message. 
The  Maine  statesman,  ever  quick  at  repartee, 
instantly  urged  in  reply:  "Buy  a  new  shirt 
and  come  on  at  once," 


CHAPTER  XVIII 
Whafs  in  a  Name  ? 

A  Household  Word 

"  YOUR  name  is  a  household  word,  Senator." 
This  was  the  remark  made  in  Chicago  to  Hon. 
Jonathan  P.  Dolliver,  the  new  United  States 
Senator  from  Iowa,  during  a  recent  campaign, 
when  a  Republican  committeeman,  anxious  to 
secure  him  for  a  speech,  assured  him  that  no 
man  was  better  known  or  understood  in  the  City 
by  the  Lake  than  the  gentleman  from  Iowa. 
"  Why,  sir,  no  man  is  better  loved  by  our  people 
or  more  highly  regarded  than  you,"  said  the 
committeeman,  rising  in  enthusiasm. 

"If  that's  the  case,"  replied  the  Senator,  "I 
shall  have  to  grant  your  request,  and  speak 
again  in  Chicago." 

"I  shall  have  to  advertise  you,"  suggested 
the  committeeman.     "Of  course,  I  know  your 
name — but,  to  be  sure,  I  want  to  ask  you.     I 
suppose  Joseph  T.  Dolliver  is  right?" 
169 


170  TKflit  an&  twmor  of  american  politics 

"  And  my  name  is  a  household  word  in 
Chicago ! ' '  responded  the  Senator. 

"Yes,  sir!" 

"  And  my  Christian  name,  Joseph  ?  " 

"  My  mistake,  Senator.  I  might  have  known 
better.  It's  John  A.  Dolliver." 

"What!"  exclaimed  the  Senator,  "  and  my 
name  is  a  household  word  in  Chicago  !  " 

"Oh,  well,"  spoke  up  the  committeeman 
blandly,  "  it's  my  mistake  again.  What  is 
your  Christian  name,  anyhow,  Senator?" 

"  It's  Jonathan,  sir,  and  my  name  is  a 
household  word  in  Chicago  !  " 

"My  mistake,  entirely,"  apologized  the  com- 
mitteeman. "You  know  I  am  forgetful  at 
times  I  believe  you  spell  your  name  D-o-l-a- 
v-o-r?" 

"  Hold  on  !  hold  on  !  "  shouted  the  Senator. 
"And  my  name  is  a  household  word  in 
Chicago!  Well!  well!  who'd  'a'  thought  it! 
I  spell  my  name  D-o-l-l-i-v-e-r." 

"Of  course,  of  course,"  soothingly  chimed 
the  committeeman.  "  Of  course,  nobody  knew 
that  better  than  myself.  You  are  ex-Senator,  I 
believe  ? ' ' 

It  was  then  that  Senator  Dolliver  wilted,  and 
whispered  sadly:  "And  my  name  is  a  house- 
hold word  in  Chicago  !  " 


anD  Ibumor  ot  Bmerican  politics  m 

A  Change  of  Name 

The  Hon.  Thomas  G.  Alvord  was  one  day 
in  the  Capitol  at  Albany,  N.  Y.,  taunting  a  fel- 
low-member about  the  "  looseness  of  legislation," 
as  he  called  it. 

"  Why,"  said  he, ""  up  comes  a  bill,  and  the 
clerk  reads  the  roll,  and  a  member  says  '  aye/ 
and  half  the  time  does  so  when  he  is  gabbing 
with  somebody  about  the  good  game  of  cards 
they  both  had  the  night  before.  I'll  wager  you 
a  dinner  for  three  that  in  less  than  a  week,  a  bill 
goes  through  the  House  in  which  you,  more 
than  any  other  man  in  the  State,  ought  to  be 
specially  interested,  which,  in  fact,  you  ought 
to  vote  against,  yet  you  will  vote  for  that  very 
bill." 

The  member  laughed  and  took  the  bet. 

One  Monday  evening,  there  was  a  session 
of  the  House.  As  most  of  the  members  had 
come  from  their  districts  during  the  afternoon, 
after  a  Sunday  rest,  they  all  felt  pretty  good, 
and  the  session  was  a  very  mixed  proceeding, 
full  of  noise  and  confusion.  Bills  were  intro- 
duced thick  as  leaves  in  Vallambrosa.  Alvord 
introduced  one,  and,  like  many  others,  asked 
that  it  then  and  there  be  ordered  to  a  third 
reading.  When  the  order  to  vote  on  the  vari- 
ous bills  was  reached,  this  bill,  whose  title,  like 


172  Wit  anD  twmor  of  Smerlcan  politics 

titles  of  many  bills  under  the  old  Constitution, 
did  not  very  clearly  define  its  object,  came  along, 
and  the  ayes  and  noes  were  rattled  off,  and  it 
was  passed. 

The  next  day,  the  member  who  had  made 
that  bet  with  Alvord  had  to  ask  for  a  reconsid- 
eration of  the  vote  by  which  the  bill  had  been 
passed,  and  for  which  he  had  himself  voted — it 
had  actually  changed  his  name.  There  was  a 
merry  dinner-party  of  three  at  that  member's 
expense.  He  was  a  member  from  this  city. 
His  real  name  was  Carolin  O'Brien  Bryant. 


CHAPTER  XIX 
Stories  of  Elaine,  McKinley,  and  Ingalls 

Aided  His  Memory 

SPEAKER  HENDERSON  tells  a  good  story  of 
one  of  his  initial  experiences  among  public  men 
in  Washington.  It  was  before  he  had  been 
elected  to  Congress,  probably  twenty-five  years 
ago. 

Elaine  was  then  Speaker.  Naturally  he  was 
one  of  the  statesmen  that  General  Henderson 
much  desired  to  meet,  and  the  opportunity  came 
one  morning,  just  as  the  Speaker  was  passing 
through  the  lobby  on  his  way  to  the  marble 
rostrum.  The  formal  greetings  were  exchanged 
in  a  brief  moment,  and  General  Henderson  was 
left  to  see  the  swinging  doors  close  on  the  form 
of  the  Republican  leader. 

Six  years  later,  General  Henderson  again  came 
to  Washington,  this  time  to  get  Iowa  divided 
into  two  judicial  districts.  He  put  up  at  Worm- 
ley's,  where  Elaine  also  lived,  it  being  in  those 
days  a  fashionable  and  flourishing  hostelry.  A 
week  or  so  after  his  arrival  from  Iowa,  as  Gen- 
173 


174  "CUltt  and  tumor  of  Bmerfcan  Polittce 

eral  Henderson  was  entering  the  dining-room, 
he  met  Elaine,  after  having  passed  and  repassed 
him  many  times.  The  Maine  man  grasped  him 
cordially  by  the  hand,  called  him  by  name  and 
inquired  about  Iowa. 

"I  had  heard  of  Speaker  Elaine's  wonderful 
faculty  for  remembering  names,"  says  General 
Henderson.  "When  I  had  seated  myself  at 
the  table  I  beckoned  to  the  head  waiter. 

"  '  Hasn't  Mr.  Elaine  asked  you  my  name? ' 
I  said  to  him.  <  Now  think  hard  and  be  sure 
of  your  answer. ' 

'"Yes,  sah,'  replied  the  waiter.  'He  done 
called  me  ovah  las'  night  an'  asked  yo'  name 
an'  all  about  yo'.  I  told  him  yo'  was  Mistah 
Henderson.'  " 


An  Unpleasant  Removal 

Elaine  at  one  time  in  his  career  was,  as  re- 
gards consular  officers,  in  favor  of  a  limited 
tenure  of  office — or,  at  any  rate,  he  believed  it 
to  be  for  the  good  of  the  service  to  change  con- 
suls from  office  to  office  occasionally,  in  order 
for  them  to  gain  a  wider  and  more  varied  experi- 
ence. 

He  sat  in  his  room  at  the  State  Department 
one  day  discussing  different  matters  of  public 


IJCUt  anO  "fcumor  ot  American  politics  ITS 

interest  with  Mr.  Evarts,  then  his  immediate 
predecessor  in  office. 

"Now,  here,"  said  he,  "is  a  case  in  point. 
This  man  has  been  consul  at  Un  Hung  for 
twenty  years.  He  went  there  at  the  time  of  the 
war,  and  has  remained  there  ever  since.  It  is 
time  he  came  home  and  got  acquainted  with  his 
own  country  before  he  grows  a  queue.  If  he 
stays  much  longer  he  will  have  a  Chinese  bias 
in  his  sight.  I  shall  remove  him  at  once." 

"I  wouldn't  remove  him,  Mr.  Secretary," 
replied  Mr.  Evarts,  quietly. 

"Why  not?" 

"  I  am  afraid  it  will  be  an  unpleasant  thing  to 
do.  To  be  vulgar,  I  fear  it  will  make  a  stink." 

"My  mind  is  made  up,"  replied  Mr.  Elaine. 
"  As  soon  as  I  can  find  a  good,  live  man  to  take 
his  place  I  shall  remove  him." 

"  But  I  think  you  will  have  grave  difficulty  in 
finding  a  good,  live  man  who  would  be  willing 
to  take  his  place." 

"I  anticipate  no  such  difficulty.  But  will 
you  explain  to  me,  Mr.  Evarts,  why  there  will 
be  any  difficulty,  and — I  confess  I  fail  to  under- 
stand— why  it  will,  to  use  your  expression,  make 
a  stink?" 

"Because  the  man  has  been  dead  and  buried 
these  six  months,  Mr.  Secretary." 


176  TKfllt  ano  twmor  of  American  politics 

McKinley  and  His  Cigar 

Oberlin,  Ohio,  in  the  centre  of  the  Connecti- 
cut Western  Reserve,  is  probably  the  most  puri- 
tan spot  in  the  entire  United  States.  A  large 
university  gives  the  town  its  being,  and  so 
jealously  have  the  College  Fathers  guarded  the 
morals  of  their  young  people,  that  not  only  is 
the  sale  of  liquor  prohibited  in  the  village  limits 
and  for  miles  around,  but  tobacco,  whether  for 
smoking,  chewing,  or  snuffing,  is  unknown  in 
the  stores,  while  playing  cards  are  even  scarcer 
than  the  proverbial  hen's  teeth. 

Once  Mr.  Monroe,  formerly  a  Congressman 
from  the  Oberlin  district,  was  the  leading  Re- 
publican of  the  village,  and  usually  entertained 
political  orators  of  the  party  when  they  visited 
"the  city."  During  Mr.  McKinley's  first 
gubernatorial  campaign,  Professor  Monroe  had 
the  pleasure  of  entertaining  the  candidate.  Af- 
ter dinner  on  the  evening  preceding  the  address, 
Mr.  McKinley  took  a  cigar  from  his  pocket  and 
casually  remarked  : 

"  You  don't  mind  if  I  smoke,  do  you,  Pro- 
•  fessor?  " 

Mr.  Monroe  was  aghast.  He  didn't  wish  to 
appear  inhospitable,  yet  he  dreaded  the  almost 
certain  social  ostracism,  following  the  discovery 
of  a  smoker  on  his  piazza,  even  be  he  the  pros. 


ano  t>umor  of  Bmerlcan  politics  177 

pective  Governor  of  the  great  State.  He  com- 
promised by  conducting  Mr.  McKinley  to  the 
second  floor,  through  a  long  hall  to  a  back  bal- 
cony, where,  safely  screened  from  public  view, 
the  weed  was  enjoyed.  As  the  smoke  curled 
upward,  instinctively  Mr.  McKinley  looked 
about  him  for  a  cuspidor. 

"There  isn't  such  a  thing  in  town,"  said 
Professor  Monroe. 

A  coal-bucket  was  finally  pressed  into  service 
as  a  compromise. 

Two  days  after  the  Oberlin  meeting,  Mr.  Mc- 
Kinley spoke  at  East  Liverpool,  the  great  pot- 
tery centre.  Chancing  to  mention  the  Oberlin 
experience  to  his  friend,  Col.  John  N.  Taylor, 
the  proprietor  of  one  of  the  big  potteries,  he  said  : 

"  By  the  way,  Taylor,  just  for  a  joke,  send  a 
gross  of  your  china  spittoons  to  Professor  Mon- 
roe. Don't  tell  him  where  they  came  from  or 
he'll  suspect  I  had  a  hand  in  it." 

Following  the  suggestion,  Colonel  Taylor 
crated  up  an  assortment  of  really  beautiful 
chinaware,  and  sent  it  to  Oberlin.  A  year  later, 
Mr.  McKinley  was  again  Mr.  Monroe's  guest. 
Forewarned  and  consequently  forearmed  with  a 
liberal  supply  of  good  Havanas,  he  again  sought 
the  vine-clad  balcony.  Lighting  his  cigar,  he 
said,  with  a  twinkle  of  his  eye  : 


178  TWlit  anD  fjumor  of  American  politics 

"  You  haven't  a  cuspidor  in  town  yet,  have 
you,  Monroe?  " 

"  It's  mighty  funny,"  was  the  response,  "but 
a  few  days  after  you  were  here  last  year,  some 
one  sent  me  a  whole  crate  of  those  things.  Of 
course,  I  hadn't  any  use  for  them,  and  they 
were  such  nice  china  and  so  prettily  painted  that 
my  wife  used  them  all  for  flower-pots.  There 
isn't  one  about  the  house  not  in  use." 


The  Amazement  of  Senator  Ingalls 
When  the  late  David  Davis  of  Illinois  was 
President  pro  tempore  of  the  Senate,  holding  the 
balance  of  power  as  an  independent  Democrat 
and  preventing  the  Republicans  from  taking 
possession  of  the  Senate  patronage,  he  was  pre- 
siding one  day  at  a  long-drawn  session  and,  be- 
coming very  tired  and  hungry,  was  anxious  to 
have  the  Senate  adjourn.  Sending  for  a  Sena- 
tor, he  requested  him  to  make  a  certain  point  of 
order  that  would  have  brought  about  such  a 
legislative  situation  that  adjournment  would  nec- 
essarily have  to  foHow.  The  Senator  made  his 
point,  which  was  a  very  bad  one,  indeed,  and 
Mr.  Davis  promptly  decided  that  it  was  well 
taken.  Just  as  he  did  so,  Senator  Ingalls 
emerged  from  the  cloak-room.  Strutting  down 


TSUit  anO  Dumor  of  Bmertcan  politics  179 

the  main  aisle,  he  addressed  the  chair,  and  in 
his  sternest  voice  and  most  dramatic  manner 
shouted:  "Mr.  President,  I  am  amazed." 

"So  am  I,"  said  the  presiding  officer 
promptly,  dropping  his  head  on  the  desk  to  con- 
ceal his  laughter,  and  then  quickly  entertained  a 
motion  for  adjournment  and  retired  to  the 
lunch-room. 


No  Precedent 

On  another  occasion,  towards  the  end  of  a 
session  lasting  far  into  the  summer,  the  usual 
proposition  was  before  the  Senate  to  give  every- 
body on  the  employee's  pay-roll  an  extra 
month's  pay.  The  bill  was  about  to  pass,  when 
Senator  Ingalls  arousing  himself,  sent  to  the 
library  for  a  stack  of  books,  and  began  such  a 
fierce  attack  on  the  measure  as  quickly  to  fill 
the  Senate-chamber  with  an  audience  to  listen 
to  his  sarcasm  and  invective.  "  There  is  no 
precedent  for  this,  Mr.  President,"  was  the 
burden  of  his  speech,  and  over,  and  over  again 
at  the  end  of  each  well  directed  attack  he 
would  repeat  :  "  There  is  no  precedent  for  this, 
Mr.  President."  At  the  close  of  his  speech,  as 
the  Senator  was  passing  from  the  Senate-cham- 
ber to  his  committee-room,  Draper,  who  had 


180  TOUt  an&  -fcumor  of  amccican  fcolttics 

been  standing  with  a  group  of  other  employees, 
anxiously  awaiting  the  result  of  the  onslaught  on 
their  salary  grab,  stepped  out  from  the  others 
and  said  to  Mr.  Ingalls  : 

"Senator,  that  was  an  able  speech  frorn  your 
standpoint,  but  why  do  you  oppose  it?  We 
thought  that  you  of  all  the  Senators  would  be 
our  particular  friend." 

With  a  frown,  Mr.  Ingalls  turned  and  said  in 
his  most  cutting  tones  :  "  Draper,  do  you  mean 
to  tell  me  that  you  men  who  have  so  little  to  do 
and  who  are  so  well  paid,  desire  to  draw  thirteen 
months'  pay  for  twelve  months'  service.  If  you 
are  not  satisfied,  why  don't  you  resign,  and  let 
some  one  have  your  place  who  will  be  satisfied 
to  draw  a  legitimate  salary?" 

"Why,"  said  Draper,  quickly,  unconsciously 
imitating  the  voice  and  manner  of  Mr.  Ingalls  in 
his  speech :  "  There  is  no  precedent  for  this,  Mr. 
Senator,"  and  Ingalls  went  off  laughing  so  loudly 
that  he  could  be  heard  over  at  the  House  of 
Representatives. 

The  next  day,  the  bill  passed,  and  the  em- 
ployees got  their  thirteen  months'  pay  for  twelve 
months  of  semi-idleness. 


CHAPTER  XX 

Cranks  at  the  White  House 

Always  on  Hand 

THROUGHOUT  the  larger  part  of  the  year  the 
White  House  is  a  magnet  for  cranks  of  all  sorts 
and  descriptions,  male  and  female.  In  the 
main,  they  are  harmless,  and  their  idiosyncrasies 
are  on  the  humorous  side,  and  the  doorkeepers 
and  the  Secret  Service  men  about  the  Executive 
mansion  know  how  to  deal  summarily  with  them. 
They  are  shunted  out  of  Washington  on  the 
double  quick.  But  while  there  are  more  of  the 
apparently  dangerous  cranks  than  the  public 
ever  hears  anything  about,  they  are  certainly  not 
so  numerous  as  might  be  expected,  considering 
the  accessibility  of  the  White  House  to  every- 
body, and  the  democratic  manner  in  which  the 
crowds  flocking  to  it  are  handled. 

While  Congress  is  in  session,  hardly  a  day 
passes  without  half  a  dozen  persons  who  are  ob- 
viously wrong  in  their  heads  attempting  to  gain 
the  President's  ear.  Many  of  these  afflicted 
181 


182  T3dit  anO  tmmor  of  Smerican  politics 

persons  are  men  and  women  who  have  repaired 
to  Washington  to  push  imaginary  or  totally  un- 
founded claims  against  the  Federal  Government, 
and  whose  ill  success  in  such  efforts  has  addled 
their  poor  twisted  brains  more  than  ever.  In 
besieging  the  White  House  doors,  their  one  idea 
is  to  obtain  an  opportunity  to  tell  the  stories  of 
their  claims  to  the  Chief  Magistrate,  and  invoke 
his  assistance  in  the  furthering  of  them  in  Con- 
gress. These  never  reach  the  President,  of 
course,  but  most  of  them  are  content  when  they 
are  received  with  ceremony  and  consideration, 
not  to  say  solemnity,  by  the  doorkeepers,  even  if 
they  are  thus  gradually  "  fanned  "  into  the  outer 
air. 

None  of  the  cranks  who  go  to  the  White  House 
are  turned  down  hard  by  the  attendants.  By 
diplomacy,  as  experience  has  proved,  they  are 
best  got  rid  of,  and  most  of  them  are  so  over- 
whelmed by  the  salaaming  of  the  self-contained 
attaches  about  the  doors,  that  far  from  feeling 
bad  over  it,  when  they  find  themselves  gently 
edged  out,  they  depart  with  beaming  counte- 
nances and  in  a  highly-flattered  state  of  mind. 

Wanted  a  Light 

A  good-looking,  well-dressed  man  of  middle 
age,  whose  face,  however,  wore  a  steady,  flaccid 


•wait  an£>  tumor  of  Bmerican  politics  183 

grin,  and  whose  eyes  had  a  queer  look  in  them, 
sauntered  up  to  the  White  House  door  one  after- 
noon in  the  second  winter  of  President  McKin- 
ley's  first  incumbency.  He  had  an  unlighted, 
half-smoked  cigar  between  his  teeth. 

"  Howdy,"  said  he  pleasantly  to  the  tall  door- 
keeper who  swung  the  door  open  for  him.  "  Bill 
in?" 

The  doorkeeper  replied  that  the  President  was 
out  driving. 

"  Too  bad,  too  bad,"  sighed  the  man  with  the 
queer  grin  and  the  odd  eyes.  "Burn  the  luck 
— that's  what  I  say  !  " 

The  doorkeeper  politely  asked  him  if  his  busi- 
ness with  the  President  was  so  pressing  as  all 
that. 

"Yes,"  replied  the  visitor  mournfully,  "it  is. 
As  you  see,"  holding  out  his  unlighted,  half- 
smoked  cigar,  "my  weed  has  gone  out.  I 
wanted  Bill  to  give  me  a  light.  He  promised 
me  in  the  year  1184,  at  the  battle  of  Hastings — 
which,  as  you  remember,  I  won  hands  down — 
that  if  ever  my  cigar  went  out,  all  I'd  have  to  do 
would  be  to  drop  in  on  him  and  get  a  light. 
Too  bad,  too  bad  !  "  And  the  man  again 
sighed  miserably. 

"  Wait  a  minute,"  said  the  doorkeeper.  "  I 
hear  the  rattle  of  the  President's  carriage — he's 


184  -wait  anO  Ibumor  ot  Bmerfcan  poltttcs 

corning  in  the  back  way.  I'll  see  him,"  and, 
leaving  another  attendant  to  keep  an  eye  on  the 
man  with  the  ineffaceable  grin,  he  slipped  into 
the  passage,  lighted  a  cigar,  and,  after  waiting  a 
moment,  returned  with  it  in  his  hand. 

"  Mr.  McKinley's  renewed  assurances  of  his 
most  distinguished  consideration,"  said  the  door- 
keeper with  great  solemnity,  holding  out  the 
cigar,  "and  here  is  his  cigar,  from  which  he 
begs  that  you  will  accept  a  light  for  your 
own." 

There  was  an  expression  almost  of  rapture  on 
the  man's  face  as  he  took  the  cigar  and  applied 
the  burning  end  of  it  to  his  own.  He  returned 
"  The  President's  cigar,"  placed  both  of  his 
hands  upon  his  chest  and  bowed  deeply  to  the 
doorkeeper,  who  returned  the  kowtow  as  cere- 
moniously, and  backed  out  saying : 

"  Tell  Bill  to  join  me  with  the  army  in  Flan- 
ders at  twenty  minutes  past  eight  o'clock,  moon- 
time." 

Then  he  passed  out,  purring  vigorously  at  his 
cigar,  and  he  never  appeared  at  the  White  House 
afterwards,  contrary  to  the  expectations  of  the 
doorkeepers,  who  had  figured  that  he'd  be  drop- 
ping in  every  day  for  a  bit  of  the  fire  from  the 
President's  cigar. 


IlJlit  ano  •flnunor  of  Bmerican  politics  is» 

He  Extended  Financial  Aid 
Not  long  before  the  Battle  of  Manila  Bay,  a 
tall,  dignified-looking  man  with  gray  hair  and 
clear,  steady  gray  eyes,  strolled  up  the  walk 
leading  to  the  main  entrance  to  the  White  House, 
swinging  his  walking  stick  jauntily.  It  was  at 
an  afternoon  hour  when  visitors  were  not  received 
at  the  Executive  Mansion,  and  one  of  the  door- 
keepers, who  happened  to  be  emerging  from  the 
White  House,  stopped  the  man,  and  courte- 
ously inquired  if  he  was  on  his  way  to  see  the 
President. 

"Yes,"  replied  the  dignified-looking,  gray- 
haired  man,  confidentially  buttonholing  the 
doorkeeper.  "I  desire  particularly  to  see  him 
in  order  to  furnish  him  with  financial  assistance 
for  the  prosecution  of  the  war.  Perhaps  you  do 
not  recognize  me,"  he  went  on,  lowering  his 
voice,  "  but  I  am  the  world-famous  King  Midas 
— my  surname's  Golddust,  but  that's  imma- 
terial. This  gigantic  copper-kettle,"  pointing 
to  his  head,  "which,  as  you  no  doubt  observe, 
is  220  feet  in  circumference,  is  filled  to  over- 
flowing with  pure  gold  coins,  each  of  which  has 
a  market  value  of  seven  quadrillions  of  dollars. 
Thus  you  see  that  I  am  far  from  want.  I  there- 
fore wish  to  assist  Mr.  McKinley  in  punishing 
the  Spaniards." 


186  "edit  anD  Dumor  of  Bmerican  politics 

"That's  a  lot  of  money  you've  got,"  re- 
marked the  doorkeeper,  as  if  stunned  at  the  im- 
mensity of  the  man's  wealth.  "  But  I'm  afraid 
you'll  need  it  all.  Let  me  tell  you  something — 
it's  not  generally  known  yet — but  at  a  Cabinet 
meeting  held  this  morning,  it  was  decided  to 
raise  the  price  of  beef  to  sixty-four  septillions 
of  dollars  a  pound,  and  everything  else,  in- 
cluding bread,  is  to  go  up  in  price  accordingly." 

"  You  don't  say  so  !  "  exclaimed  King  Midas 
Golddust,  with  an  alarmed  look,  and,  tightly 
clutching  his  walking-stick,  he  charged  out  of 
the  gate  as  swiftly  as  his  long  legs  could  carry 
him.  He  never  came  back,  either. 


Anxious  about  His  Height 

A  very  short,  thick-set  man,  with  Herculean 
shoulders  and  unsettled  eyes,  sailed  up  to  the 
White  House  door  under  a  full  head  of  steam 
one  morning  while  General  Harrison  occupied 
the  Presidential  chair.  He  had  so  much  mo- 
mentum that  two  doorkeepers  had  difficulty  in 
bringing  him  to  a  halt  when  he  passed  through 
the  door,  but  they  finally  gave  him  the  arm- 
clutch  on  either  side  and  politely  asked  him 
whither  he  was  bound. 


TKHit  ano  Dumor  of  Hmerfcan  politics  187 

"Sh-sh  !  "  hissed  the  undersized  man,  plac- 
ing his  finger  to  his  lips  warningly.  "I'just 
met  Peter  the  Hermit  down  the  street,  and  he 
told  me  I  was  shorter  than  Ben  Harrison.  I 
want  to  see  Ben  and  measure  up  with  him. 
How  many  heads  taller  than  Ben  am  I,  any- 
how ?" 

"  Why,"  said  one  of  the  doorkeepers,  "  you're 
so  much  taller  than  the  President  that  you 
wouldn't  be  able  to  see  him  at  all  unless  you 
lie  down  flat  on  the  floor.  Alongside  of  Mr. 
Harrison,  you're  a  redwood-tree  of  California 
compared  to  a  dandelion." 

A  look  of  great  happiness  crept  into  the  short 
man's  face. 

"And  so  Peter  the  Hermit  told  me  what 
wasn't  so?"  said  he,  wistfully. 

"  Sure  thing,"  said  the  doorkeeper. 

"  And  I'm  the  tallest  man  that  ever  lived  ?  " 

"  If  Goliath  was  on  earth,  you'd  make  him 
look  as  if  he'd  stopped  growing  when  he  was 
four  months  old,"  solemnly  replied  the  door- 
keeper. 

"O  joy!  whish  I  whoosh!  whee !  "  ex- 
claimed the  undersized  man,  bubbling  over 
with  happiness,  and  out  he  went  at  a  jog-trot, 
nor  did  he  ever  call  again  for  the  purpose  of 
standing  back  to  back  with  the  Chief  Magistrate. 


188  mtt  ano  Dumoc  of  Bmerfcan  politics 

A  Garment  for  the  President 
Another  eccentric  who  called  at  the  White 
House  during  the  regime  of  General  Harrison, 
had  his  arms  pinned  to  his  sides  the  moment 
after  he  stepped  over  the  threshold,  for  he  no 
sooner  passed  the  door  than  his  right  hand 
traveled  to  his  back  pocket.  It  looked  like 
preparation  for  gun  play,  and  the  doorkeepers 
had  him  in  no  time.  The  man  looked  greatly 
surprised  over  this  treatment,  and  when  the 
doorkeepers  felt  his  back  pocket  and  found  that 
it  contained  no  weapon,  they  turned  him  loose 
and  looked  him  over. 

"What  was  your  idea  in  going  to  that 
pocket?"  inquired  one  of  the  doorkeepers. 

"My  motive,"  replied  the  man,  aggrievedly, 
"far  from  being  ulterior,  was  purely  philan- 
thropic. I  am  informed,  through  the  medium 
of  the  public  press,  that  Mr.  Harrison  is  a 
cold,  cold  man.  I  brought  this  to  him  to  en- 
able him  to  warm  himself  up."  And  he  again 
reached  into  his  hip  pocket  and  solemnly 
brought  forth  a  tiny  red-flannel  undershirt, 
about  two  inches  long  by  an  inch  wide,  which 
had  probably  been  fashioned  for  advertising 
purposes  by  some  underwear  manufacturing 
establishment. 

"Oh,  all  right,  I'll  take  it  to  the  President," 


TiUit  anD  Ibumor  ot  Bmerican  politics  189 

said  the  doorkeeper,  accepting  the  present 
without  a  smile,  and  the  man  went  away  con- 
tented. The  doorkeeper  mustered  up  sufficient 
temerity  to  hand  the  tiny  undershirt  to  President 
Harrison  that  afternoon,  explaining  how  he  had 
come  into  possession  of  it.  General  Harrison 
laughed  heartily  as  he  held  the  bit  of  red 
flannel  up  before  him. 

"Well,"  said  he,  "I've  always  been  aware 
that  my  stature  is  nothing  prodigious,  but  I 
didn't  know  that  they  had  reduced  me  to  these 
dimensions." 


Imagined  She  Was  Cleopatra 

It  seemed  as  if  all  the  female  cranks  in 
the  country  wished  to  see  Mrs.  Cleveland  in 
President  Cleveland's  first  term.  A  queer- 
looking  little  old  woman  turned  up  at  the  White 
House  one  morning,  not  long  after  Mrs.  Cleve- 
land's installation  as  first  lady  of  the  land.  Her 
shoulders  were  shrouded  in  an  old  Paisley  shawl, 
and  in  the  ends  of  this  shawl,  she  had  swad- 
dled up  a  little,  very  old,  toothless  and  half- 
blind  Skye-terrier. 

"Good-morning,  serfs,"  said  the  little  old 
lady,  smiling  pleasantly  at  the  doorkeepers, 
"I'm  Cleopatra,  you  know." 


190  mil  an&  ftumor  of  Bmerican  politics 

The  doorkeepers  made  Cleopatra  a  reverence, 
and  she  undid  the  loose  ends  of  the  shawl  swad- 
dling the  aged  Skye-terrier,  and  showed  the  dog 
to  them. 

"I  thought  I'd  leave  poor  little  Charmion 
with  Mrs.  Cleveland,  you  know,"  said  the  little 
old  woman,  rather  pathetically.  "  I  am  going 
to  visit  the  tombs  of  my  ancestors  in  the  Pyra- 
amids,  shortly,  and  the  Pyramids  are  so  damp 
lately  that  I  fear  Charmion  will  take  cold  if  I 
take  her  along  with  me.  So  I  thought  I  would 
leave  her  with  Mrs.  Cleveland  while  I  am  gone." 
And  the  little  old  woman  gazed  affectionately  at 
the  wheezy  terrier  and  stroked  its  head. 

The  doorkeepers  felt  so  sorry  for  the  old 
woman  that  they  were  half  inclined  to  take  the 
dog  from  her  and  care  for  it  in  its  age  and  de- 
crepitude, but  the  fear  that  she  might  bother  by 
frequently  calling  to  inquire  after  the  animal 
deterred  them.  The  authorities  took  charge  of 
the  woman,  whose  mind  had  become  unsettled 
as  a  result  of  many  troubles,  and  she  and  her 
dog  were  properly  cared  for. 


Dresses   For  Mrs.  Cleveland 
A  middle-aged  woman,  none  too  well  dressed, 
but  very  neat  and  tidy,   called  at  the  White 


rait  and  tumor  of  Bmerfcan  politics  191 

House  one  afternoon  towards  the  close  of  Presi- 
dent Cleveland's  first  administration.  When 
she  got  in,  she  beckoned  one  of  the  doorkeepers 
aside. 

"  Now,  I  wouldn't  have  you  mention  it  for 
worlds,"  she  whispered  to  the  doorkeeper,  "but 
how  shall  I  arrange  to  send  Mrs.  Cleveland 
some  of  my  cast-off  dresses  ?  " 

The  doorkeeper,  who,  until  the  woman  spoke, 
had  no  idea  that  her  mind  was  wrong,  ducked 
at  this  and  made  some  evasive  reply. 

"  They  tell  me  that  the  poor  thing  hasn't  a 
single,  solitary  stitch  fit  to  be  seen,"  went  on 
the  woman.  "  It's  a  sin  and  a  shame  !  Scan- 
dalous !  And  she  so  nice-looking.  Now  I  have 
such  millions  and  millions  of  dresses  that  I  could 
spare  just  as  easily  as  not.  And  we  are  just  ex- 
actly the  same  figure,  too,  aren't  we?  "  regard- 
ing her  225  pounds  of  avoirdupois  with  great 
satisfaction. 

"  All  of  my  dresses,"  she  went  on,  before  the 
doorkeeper  could  think  of  anything  to  say  to 
her,  "were  made  by  Worth  and  Felix.  Law's 
me !  How  that  poor  Worth  man  has  torn  his 
hair  and  ground  his  teeth  in  thinking  of  new 
effects  for  my  ball  gowns !  And,  goodness 
gracious  sakes  alive,  how  Felix  has  despaired 
of  ever  doing  me  justice  !  " 


192  Mit  an&  Ibumot  of  Bmerican  politics 

"Well  might  he,  madam,"  said  the  door- 
keeper, for  lack  of  anything  better  to  say. 

"  So,"  went  on  the  woman  graciously, 
"  when  I  heard  that  Mrs.  Cleveland  was  actu- 
ally without  anything  to  wear,  I  decided  to  as- 
certain from  her  if  she  would  feel  bad  or 
humiliated — you  understand — if  I  should — very 
delicately,  you  know — presume  to  send  her 
about  three  dray  loads  of  my  own  dresses  that  I 
shall  probably  not  wear  any  more,  although 
they  are  almost  as  good  as  new,  every  one  of 
them." 

"  Madam,"  said  the  doorkeeper,  "  she  would 
be  everlastingly  grateful  to  you  for  your  con- 
sideration. Send  them  along,  by  all  means." 

"  Oh,  thanks,  so  much !  "  exclaimed  this 
liberal-souled  woman,  smiling  radiantly,  and  she 
went  her  way.  The  three  dray  loads  of  Felix 
and  Worth  dresses  have  yet  to  be  drawn  up  at 
the  goods-receiving  back  door  of  the  White 
House,  nor  did  the  generous-minded  woman 
who  had  been  the  despair  of  the  two  great  cos- 
tume designers,  ever  return  to  explain  the  dray- 
men's tardiness. 


CHAPTER  XXI 
The  Game  of  Politics  in  Kansas 

A  State  of  Surprises 

^KANSAS  is  what  might  be  termed  an  'un- 
expected State,'  "  says  Opie  Read.  "  It  is  a 
Commonwealth  of  surprises.  Sometimes  for  a 
period  of  several  years,  crops  fail,  until  a  failure 
is  expected ;  and  then  comes  a  harvest  that  as- 
tonishes the  world.  A  justice  of  the  peace  told 
me  that  jack-rabbits  run  faster  in  Kansas  than 
in  Nebraska.  'That  may  be,'  replied  a  Ne- 
braska man  who  stood  near,  '  but  they  don't 
run  any  oftener.' " 

New  York  is  a  State  of  types.  Kansas  is  a 
State  of  individuals.  It  is  a  storm-centre  of 
political  impulse.  In  Illinois  the  successful  pol- 
itician is  a  staid  and  plodding  worker,  a  clerk 
for  his  constituents.  In  Kansas,  a  man  to  hold 
the  public  must  have  a  plot  and  a  car-load  of 
scenery.  Out  there  in  that  broad  land  of  the 
sunflower  and  the  gigantic  "jimson,"  dulness, 
though  it  may  be  hard-working,  is  looked  upon 
193 


194  TWlit  anD  tbumor  of  american  politics 

with  a  soured  mingling  of  pity,  sarcasm,  and 
contempt.  When  Ingalls  put  aside  his  politics 
for  a  few  moments  and  wrote  an  essay  on  grass, 
the  State  arose  and  clapped  its  hands  in  ap- 
plause, and  an  old  farmer  remarked  to  the  keen 
satirist,  a  scythe-blade  flashing  in  the  sun : 
"John,  I  allus  thought  there  was  somethin'  to 
you,  an'  dinged  if  you  hain't  proved  it." 


He  Studied  Expression 

One  of  the  best  speeches  of  the  entire  cam- 
paign, either  in  Kansas  or  in  any  other  State, 
was  made  by  Henry  Allen,  a  country  news- 
paper man,  a  man  whose  philosophical  eye  looks 
back  with  fondness  and  humor  upon  his  early 
struggle  for  an  education.  He  found  an  old 
razor,  sharpened  it  on  his  boot  and  shaved  his 
way  through  college.  "  Yes,  sir,"  he  said, 
and  there  was  modesty  in  the  tone  of  his 
voice  ;  "I  have  made  my  mark — and  it  is  there 
yet,  on  the  face  of  a  kindly  old  gentleman  who 
held  down  the  chair  of  ancient  and  harmless 
languages.  L  shaved  him — once."  Some  one 
asked  him  how  he  acquired  such  aptness  as  a 
talker  and  he  answered  : 

"I  had  the  opportunity  to  study  expression 
as  I  lathered  it."  He  took  up  the  trust  ques- 


anD  Dumor  of  American  politics   195 

tion  and  gave  it  a  pleasing  color ;  he  made  one 
almost  wish  that  he  might  own  the  controlling 
interest  in  some  great  aggregation  of  capital. 
Once  in  his  enthusiasm,  he  made  a  mistake  in 
his  figures.  "  It  was  not  so  long  ago,"  he  said, 
speaking  to  a  large  audience,  "  that  we  trembled, 
upon  taking  up  the  newspaper  in  the  morning,  in 
fear  that  the  gold  reserve  had  been  drawn  upon 
during  the  night.  But  now  what  is  the  condi- 
tion of  our  great  storehouse  in  gold  ?  In  the 
national  treasury,  we  have  in  gold  two  hundred 
and  eighty-seven  dollars."  He  meant  millions. 
Just  at  that  moment  a  red-haired  boy,  standing 
between  his  father's  knees,  began  to  cry. 
"What's  the  matter  with  him?"  a  neighbor 
asked.  "  He's  cryin'  because  there  is  so  little 
gold  in  the  Treasury,"  the  boy's  father  re- 
plied. 

Just  then,  some  one  turned  to  Allen  and 
said:  "Well,  Henry,  you  know  that  the  elec- 
tion here  is  always  a  sort  of  a  family  affair,  and 
no  matter  how  hard  we  fight,  we  are  all  broth- 
ers afterwards.  So,  when  this  thing  is  over,  and 
you  get  to  be  a  good  Populist,  come  over  to  my 
house  and  see  me." 

"All  right,"  Allen  replied.  "Whenever  I 
become  a  Populist  I  won't  care  a  darn  where  I 
go." 


196  TlCiit  anO  Dumor  of  Bmerican  politics 

Jerry  Simpson  and  the  Kentuckian 

I  met  Jerry  Simpson,  who  has  been  called 
"  sockless."  But  he  is  not  soulless;  he  has  as 
kindly  an  eye  as  ever  moistened  at  the  sight  of 
distress.  His  voice  is  the  echo  of  a  warm 
heart.  He  accepted  office,  but  so  did  Jefferson ; 
he  looked  for  it.  I  don't  remember  whether 
Jefferson  did  or  not.  They  accuse  him  of  color- 
ing his  talk  to  suit  the  occasion,  and  I  am  told 
that  Demosthenes  was  not  above  that  sort  of 
thing.  I  heard  a  conversation  between  Simp- 
son and  an  old  Kentuckian  who  had  become 
acclimated  to  the  sharp  political  winds  of 
Kansas. 

"That's  all  well  enough,"  said  Simpson, 
"  but  America  ought  not  to  bite  off  more  than 
she  can  chaw." 

"  Of  course  not,"  replied  the  Kentuckian, 
"  but  I  don't  believe  America  will  bite  off  more 
than  she  can  chaw.  I  don't  reckon  any  nation's 
got  a  better  set  of  teeth." 

"But,"  Simpson  persisted,  "I  don't  think 
we  can  take  in  those  islands  under  the  Consti- 
tution." 

"  That  mout  be,"  rejoined  the  Kentuckian, 
"  but  we  can  fetch  'em  in  under  the  flag,  and 
I  guess  the  Constitution  will  become  ricon- 
ciled."  , 


anD  Ijumot  of  Hmerican  politics  197 

Embraced  the  Opportunity 
Every  man  in  Kansas  is  a  politician,  and 
what  is  more,  nearly  every  man  can  make  a 
speech.  One  night,  an  oldish  man  who  had 
never  attempted  to  address  an  audience  was 
urged  to  get  up  and  express  himself.  He  hung 
back  with  the  red  embarrassment  of  the  Friday- 
afternoon-boy,  when  visitors  have  unexpectedly 
entered  the  schoolroom.  But  finally  he  yielded, 
and  at  first  he  fumbled  about  for  words.  "  He 
is  sorting  potatoes,"  some  one  whispered.  Sud- 
denly he  forgot  to  fumble,  and  boldly  launched 
a  majestic  tirade  against  the  evils  of  the  day. 
His  eyes  blazed.  He  popped  circling  serpents 
of  fire  from  the  ends  of  his  fingers.  The  audi- 
ence was  entranced.  And  when  the  eye-blaze 
was  turned  low  and  the  serpents  were  all  popped 
off,  he  stood  there  a  surprise  unto  himself.  But 
he  did  not  permit  this  unexpected  crop  to  go  to 
waste.  Instantly  he  said:  "Now  that  I  think 
of  it,  I  hereby  announce  myself  as  a  candidate 
for  Congress." 

How  to  Meet  Their  Wants 

To  the  Kansas  people,  a  political  contest 
comes  as  a  sort  of  joy.  It  is  the  Christmas  of 
the  emotions.  An  Eastern  statesman  with  more 


198  "wait  anO  tumor  ot  Smerfcan  politics 

dignity  than  perception,  before  a  Kansas  audi- 
ence, thus  began  his  remarks  :  "  Fellow-citizens, 
I  think " 

"  We  don't  care  what  you  think.  Tell  us 
something  new,"  a  voice  shouted.  The  states- 
man's speech  was  ruined.  But  the  man  who 
followed  was  a  Kansan.  He  had  come  out  re- 
cently for  expansion. 

"  Sorry  to  see  you  on  that  side  of  the  fence," 
some  one  cried  out. 

"  Sorry  to  see  you  at  all,"  the  speaker  re- 
plied, and  was  permitted  to  go  on  without  fur- 
ther interruption. 

They  are  riotous  lovers  of  fun,  but  under  the 
soft  spell  of  a  pathetic  story  each  man  looks  as 
if  he  had  a  diamond  in  his  eye.  Ingalls  often 
excited  their  admiration  but  he  never  touched 
their  hearts.  From  the  crumbling  tower  of  his 
cynicism,  he  threw  stars  at  them  and  brought 
down  a  full  moon  when  he  fell,  and  in  mute  ad- 
miration, but  with  tearless  eyes,  they  gazed 
upon  the  glittering  ruin. 

"And  it  was  to  these  people,"  said  a  promi- 
nent politician,  "  that  I  was  called  upon  to  make 
speeches.  I  felt  like  a  '  tenderfoot '  with  a  toy 
pistol.  I  had  not  the  courage  to  draw  my 
twenty-two  where  there  were  so  many  forty- 
fives.  I  reminded  myself  of  a  story  that  I 


TWUt  ano  l>umor  of  Bmcrican  politics  199 

heard  down  in  Mississippi.  You  may  have 
heard  it.  A  train  stopped  for  dinner  in  the 
swamps.  A  negro  stood  on  a  veranda  ringing 
a  bell.  A  dog  began  to  howl.  The  negro 
looked  at  the  dog  and  said :  '  What  are  you 
cryin'  erbout  ?  You  don't  have  to  eat  here.' 

"  I  didn't  have  to  speak  there  ;  and  I  stood 
in  cowardly  fright  when  the  chairman  whispered 
to  me:  'Tell  them  some  stories.'  And  after 
that,  my  way  was  clear.  I  hope  to  meet  that 
chairman  in  a  land  that  is  better  than  this, 
where  there  are  no  politics — but  story,  the  sub- 
lime story  of  the  sinner-man's  redemption.  The 
story  does  not  pull  down  the  philosopher  but 
places  the  common  man  beside  him.  Make  a 
man  laugh  and  he  is  half  convinced.  Men  who 
have  no  humor  sneer  '  with  conscious  medioc- 
rity. '  Tom  Corwin  knew  this  when  he  said : 
'My  son,  be  solemn — be  as  solemn  as  an  ass.' 
He  knew  that  dull  solemnity  is  often  mistaken 
'for  statesmanship.  Humor  in  politics  is  not 
frivolity.  It  is  a  mellow  light  thrown  upon 
truth.  And  that  is  the  way  they  look  at  it  in 
Kansas.  The  Kansas  man  reads.  The  best 
publications  lie  upon  the  farmer's  centre-table. 
His  understanding  is  clear.  The  only  thing  he 
has  to  fight  is  a  rebellious  nerve.  He  has  all 
the  statistics  of  a  campaign  issue,  and  he  is 


200  TKW  an&  Dumor  ot  Hmerican  politics 

bored  when  a  speaker  makes  a  'splurge'  of 
figures.  If  so  minded,  he  can  put  you  to  sleep 
with  extracts  from  speeches  on  the  tariff.  He 
knows  all  about  the  recent  treaties  into  which 
his  country  has  entered.  Allen  said  :  '  I  don't 
know  whether  this  Treaty  of  Paris  is  a  good 
thing  or  not.  I  have  read  it  over  twice  and  it 
struck  me  as  being  a  pretty  fair  article  of  treaty. 
I  may  be  wrong.  I  haven't  had  the  time  to 
study  it.  But  there  is  an  old  man  in  my  town 
who  says  that  it  is  not  a  good  thing.  He  ought 
to  know.  He  has  had  the  leisure  to  commit  it 
to  memory.  His  wife  takes  in  washing.' ' 


Convinced  By  Song 

In  most  States  the  farmers  drive  to  town  in 
wagons.  In  Kansas,  they  come  in  buggies. 
They  know  the  meaning  of  hard  luck  and  they 
know  how  to  stand  it.  They  are  adventurous 
and  religious.  They  believe  in  self  and  the 
Almighty.  Nothing  would  please  them  more 
than  to  go  to  war.  They  love  peace,  if  it  be 
honorable,  but  the  glory  of  the  soldier  appeals 
to  them.  The  women  read  politics.  And 
they  tell  me  that  platforms  are  easy  to  under- 
stand. That  may  be.  During  the  campaign, 
a  jubilee  corps  of  fifteen  or  twenty  girls  went 


an&  Dumor  of  Hmerican  politics  201 

about  singing  gold,  tariff,  and  expansion.  It 
was  a  sort  of  political  Salvation  Army.  A 
man  told  me  that  they  had  sung  him  out  of  his 
former  convictions.  "Yes,  sir,"  said  he,  "I 
can  stand  hammering  and  all  that  sort  of  thing, 
but  whenever  they  introduce  the  mourners' 
bench  methods,  I  throw  up  my  hands." 


High  Praise 

It  is  much  easier  to  tell  stories  on  the  political 
stump  than  on  the  lecture  platform.  I  mean  that 
it  is  easier  to  get  the  audiences.  If  a  lecturer 
could  gather  such  crowds,  it  wouldn't  make 
any  difference  to  him  who  is  elected.  I  have 
stood  before  some  of  the  smallest  audiences 
in  this  country  and  I  know  what  I  am  talking 
about.  At  times  I  have  been  forced  to  abandon 
the  set  form  of  "Ladies  and  Gentlemen,"  and 
to  say,  "  Good  -evening,  sir."  A  political  audi- 
ence is  like  a  packed  jury — it  is  already  con- 
vinced ;  and  the  successful  speaker  is  the  one 
who  "  loses  "  the  smallest  number  of  votes.  At 
a  little  town,  the  circuit  Judge  came  to  me 
after  the  meeting  and  said  : 

"Well,  sir,  I  don't  want  to  flatter  you,  but  I 
must  compliment  you.  I  don't  believe  you  are 
doing  any  particular  harm."  I  laughed,  and 


202  TlWit  ant>  ttwmor  of  Bmerican  politico 

he  mistook  my  merriment  for  incredulity. 
"  Oh,  it  is  a  fact.  I  have  heard  several  say 
so."  Afterwards  I  learned  that  this  was  high 
praise. 


Tearing  Off  the  Mask 

One  of  the  best  stories  Gen.  Archie  Williams 
ever  drew  from  his  repertory  is  told  on  himself. 
Many  years  ago,  when  he  was  Attorney-General 
of  Kansas,  Mr.  Williams  had  occasion  to  make 
a  trip  to  the  East.  He  had  no  railroad  passes 
east  of  the  Mississippi  River,  so  he  borrowed  an 
annual  over  an  Illinois  road  from  his  old  friend, 
Jake  Smith.  It  happened  during  the  first 
stretch  through  Illinois  that  the  conductor  of 
the  train  on  which  the  Kansas  man  rode  was  a 
former  schoolmate  of  his.  The  conductor  rec- 
ognized Williams,  but  Williams  didn't  recog- 
nize the  conductor,  and  upon  this  fact,  the  fun 
of  the  story  hangs. 

"  Mr.  Smith,"  said  the  conductor,  after  he 
had  worked  his  train  and  returned  to  have 
a  chat  with  his  passenger  from  Kansas,  "  I  see 
you  are  from  Topeka;  did  you  ever  know  a 
man  out  there  by  the  name  of  Archie  Wil- 
liams?" 

"  Yes,  I  know  him  very  well,"  responded  the 


Ulit  and  Dumor  ot  Bmerican  politics   203 

pseudo  Smith,  after  struggling  hard  to  steady 
his  nerve,  and  regain  his  composure.  "  Yes, 
Williams  is  considerable  of  a  fellow  out  there. 
He's  Attorney-General  of  the  State." 

"  Who,  Williams  ?  Attorney-General  ?  " 
ejaculated  the  conductor.  "  What  kind  of 
people  are  they  out  there  in  Kansas  to  elect  a 
chucklehead  like  that  for  Attorney-General? 
Why,  sir,  I  used  to  know  Williams  back  here  in 
Illinois ;  and  of  all  the  dundle-pated,  step-on- 
himself-and-fall-all-over  fellows  you  ever  saw, 
Williams  was  the  worst.  That  man  Attorney- 
General  ?  Why,  if  you  will  believe  me,  Mr. 
Smith,  he  didn't  know  enough  to  wad  a  shot- 
gun." 

"  Stop  it !  Stop  it !  "  yelled  Williams,  spring- 
ing to  his  feet.  "  There  is  your  blankety-blank 
Smith  pass ;  take  it  up  and  collect  fare  if  you 
want  to ;  but  you  can't  abuse  me  any  longer  !  " 


CHAPTER  XXII 
"Oto" 

A  Friend  of  the  Cow 

FROM  the  Congressional  Record  of  February 
15,  1902,  we  cull  the  following  delicious  bit  of 
humor, — a  speech  by  Representative  T.  J. 
Selby,  of  Illinois,  on  the  repeal  of  the  oleomar- 
garine tax.  Mr.  Selby  was  then  what  is  known 
as  a  "  new  man  "  in  Congress. 

1 '  I  desire  to  say  a  few  words  on  this  greasy 
subject.  I  am  a  friend  to  the  cow.  I  am  a 
friend  to  the  woman  that  milks  the  cow.  I  am 
a  friend  to  the  man  that  stands  by  and  watches 
his  wife  while  she  milks  the  cow,  for  is  she  not 
his  helpmeet  ?  I  love  to  see  the  woman  churn 
the  foaming  cream  until  the  butter  cometh.  I 
love  the  nice  fresh  buttermilk,  and  love  to  see 
the  busy  housewife  wallop  the  butter  about 
in  her  hands  into  shapely  rolls.  I  love  to  see 
the  butter  come,  and  then  I  love  to  make  the 
butter  fly. 

"Memory  goes  back  to  the  happy  times 
204 


TKJUt  and  twmor  of  Bmerican  politics  205 

when  the  cows  came  home,  and  to  the  less 
happy  times  when  I  had  to  make  them  come 
home.  Any  man  who  has  been  raised  with 
a  cow  will  never  lose  his  friendship  for  her,  nor 
go  back  upon  her,  nor  upon  her  back,  when  ad- 
versity strikes  her  business. 

"The  gentleman  from  Virginia  (Mr.  Lamb) 
paid  the  Virginia  cow  a  beautiful  and  eloquent 
tribute,  but  let  me  say  to  him  that  the  Virginia 
cow  cannot  be  compared  with  the  big  fat  cows 
of  the  Mississippi  Valley,  and  beyond.  I  am 
well  aware  that  Virginia  is  entitled  to  the  proud 
distinction  of  having  been  the  '  mother  of 
Presidents,'  but  she  was  not  the  mother  of  the 
cow.  The  Mississippi  Valley  cow  is  a  marvel 
of  wonder  and  the  pride  of  every  home.  She 
never  goes  dry.  She  is  kind  and  gentle,  and 
has  such  maternal  affection  that  she  often  licks 
the  milker  instead  of  her  calf. 

"  If  I  fail  to  vote  for  this  bill,  I  shall  feel  that 
I  cannot  go  home  and  ever  again  look  an 
honest  cow  in  the  face.  The  cows  in  my 
country  are  Democratic  cows.  They  give 
Democratic  milk,  which  accounts  for  the  ever- 
lasting big  Democratic  majorities  in  my  district. 
They  are  not  yet  aware,  sir,  that  there  is  such  a 
thing  as  oleo  in  any  part  of  their  anatomy. 
Why,  sir,  even  our  hogs  have  not  learned  that 


206  Wit  anD  tbumor  of  Bmcncan  politics 

their  greasy  in'ards  contribute  to  the  greedy 
work  of  building  up  a  great  anti-cow  butter 
monopoly.  If  the  peaceful  hog  knew  it,  he 
would  grunt  in  shame. 

"The  cow  in  my  country  lives  in  Arcadian 
simplicity.  She  dwelleth  amid  green  pastures 
and  looketh  dubiously  at  the  Republican  politi- 
cian as  he  passeth  by  on  his  mission  to  hoodoo 
the  honest  voter. 

"  Frolicsome  calves  gallop  about  with  tails 
erect,  rejoicing  in  the  fulness  of  democratic 
freedom  that  is  theirs.  The  cow  is  contented 
and  happy,  out  in  my  district,  in  her  benevolent 
work  of  giving  milk  for  young  Democrats. 
Little  does  this  patient  cow  know  that  the  hon- 
est product  of  her  toil  is  being  counterfeited  so 
successfully  by  cunning  men  that  the  butter- 
eater  knoweth  not  any  more  what  he  eateth 
when  he  buttereth  his  bread. 

"  This  '  wholesome  food  product/  called 
oleomargarine,  you  say  is  such  a  fine  counterfeit 
of  genuine  butter,  such  a  delicious  substitute, 
that  the  honest  son  of  toil  cannot  tell  whether 
he  is  eating  pure  butter  or  this  fraudulent  com- 
pound of  hog  lard,  steer  fat,  and  cottonseed 
grease.  To  such  perfection  has  swindling  come 
at  last  under  Republican  rule  and  misrule. 
Why  should  you  not  be  as  earnestly  and  elo- 


"Wait  anfc  -fcumor  ot  Smerfcan  politics  207 

quently  advocating  an  honest  thing  for  the 
honest  workingman,  as  you  are  earnestly  and 
eloquently  advocating  this  substitute,  this  com- 
pound of  mysterious  fats,  for  him  ?  I  tell  you, 
the  honest  son  of  toil  is  entitled  to  have  the 
honest  product  of  honest  labor,  the  best  and  not 
the  poorest,  the  genuine  and  not  the  counterfeit. 
We  should  take  off  our  hats  to  these  honest  sons 
of  toil,  for  we  are  here  by  their  votes,  by  their 
kind  permission.  They  expect  us  to  prevent 
fraud,  not  to  protect  it.  They  expect  us  to 
give  an  honest  vote  for  an  honest  measure. 
This  bill  is  an  honest  measure  to  protect  an 
honest  industry. 

"  Gentlemen,  let  us  stand  by  the  honest  cow, 
and  verily  we  shall  have  an  abundance  of  genu- 
ine butter  for  our  bread,  and  milk  for  our  babies 
— and  the  earth  and  the  fulness  thereof  shall  be 
ours." 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

From  the  South 

What  They  Thought  of  Hoke  Smith 

A  MAN  from  Georgia,  one  of  the  delegates  to 
the  Industrial  Convention,  was  talking  about 
Hoke  Smith. 

"Down  in  our  State,"  said  the  delegate, 
"  the  name  of  Hoke  Smith  is  held  in  venera- 
tion. Apropos  of  this,  they  tell  a  story  about  a 
couple  of  '  crackers '  who  were  sitting  on  a 
fence  talking  politics.  It  was  when  Hoke  Smith 
was  serving  as  Secretary  of  the  Interior  in 
Cleveland's  cabinet. 

"  '  Hoke  Smith's  a  great  man,  suh,'  said  one 
cracker. 

"  '  Yaas,  suh,  he's  a  great  man,  but  he  ain't 
es  great  a  man  as  Grover  Cleveland,'  said  the 
other. 

"  '  Yaas,  suh,  Hoke  Smith's  a  greatah  man 
than  Grover  Cleveland.' 

"  '  Wall,  ah  reckon  he  ain't  es  great  a  man  es 
Gen'l  Robe't  E.  Lee.' 

208 


TKHit  anD  ljumot  of  Hmerican  politics  209 

" '  Yaas,  suh,  Hoke  Smith's  a  greatah  man 
than  Robe't  E.  Lee.' 

"  <  Ah  reckon  he  ain't  es  great  a  man  es  Jeff' - 
son  Davis.' 

"  '  Yes,  suh,  Hoke  Smith's  a  greatah  man 
than  Jeff 'son  Davis.' 

"A  long  pause  followed  and  each  chewed 
meditatively. 

"'Hoke  Smith  ain't  es  great  as  God,'  re- 
marked the  doubting  cracker. 

"This  argument  seemed  a  clincher,  but  the 
other  cracker  proved  equal  to  it.  He  spat 
copiously  and  then  drawled  out : 

"  '  Mebbe  not — mebbe  not.  Hoke  Smith's  a 
young  man  yit.' ' 


His  Wish  Gratified 

Congressman  Jones  of  Virginia  tells  this  story 
of  his  father:  Directly  after  the  war  Jones, 
senior,  was  sent  to  the  State  Senate.  An  old 
slave  who  had  belonged  to  him  was  also  elected 
to  the  Senate.  The  two  drew  adjoining  seats. 
Senator  Jones  was  very  courteous,  and  in  ad- 
dressing his  former  slave  always  called  him 
Senator.  The  old  negro  stood  it  for  some  time, 
and  finally  said  :  "  Massa  William,  I  don't  like 
dis  Senator  business.  Kain't  I  come  down  to 


210  Trait  anO  -Burner  of  Bmertcan  politics 

yo'  house  and  visit  that  cook  of  yourn?  I 
suhtinly  would  like  permission  to  visit  yo' 
kitchen."  The  request  was  granted,  and  while 
Senator  Jones  was  in  his  library,  the  other  Sena- 
tor was  down  in  the  kitchen  visiting  the  cook. 

An  Object  in  View 

In  the  crowd  at  Timothy  Woodruff's  head- 
quarters at  the  Republican  National  Convention 
of  1900,  were  two  colored  gentlemen  from  a 
Southern  state.  They  got  inside  the  door  and 
announced  :  "  We're  delegates,  boss ;  we  think 
powerful  well  of  Woodruff  down  our  way." 

The  Honorable  Timothy  was  not  around  at 
the  time,  but  the  man  in  charge  told  them  he 
was  very  glad  to  hear  that,  and  trusted  they 
would  stick  to  Tim. 

"  Yes,  we  think  powerful  well  of  Mr.  Wood- 
ruff, ' '  said  one  of  the  delegates. 

"  Yes,  yes,  we  are  glad  to  hear  that,"  said 
the  man  in  charge,  and  he  turned  to  greet  some- 
body else.  The  two  stood  there. 

"Yes,"  said  the  spokesman,  again,  when  he 
thought  he  reached  the  ear  of  the  Woodruff 
man,  "we  think  powerful  well  of  Mr.  Woodruff 
down  our  way." 

The  Woodruff  man  kept  talking  to  other  peo- 
ple. The  delegates  stood  still.  Finally  the 


mtt  an£>  ibumor  of  Bmertcan  politics   211 

spokesman  of  the  pair  coughed.  The  Wood- 
ruff man  looked  around. 

"Fact  is,"  said  the  spokesman  when  he  saw 
the  Woodruff  man's  eye  on  him  again,  "  we 
have  a  small  Baptist  church  down  in  our  town, 
and  we've  got  a  mortgage  on  it,  and  it  is  power- 
ful hard  to  raise  money  these  days,  powerful 
hard.  You  see,  besides  being  up  here  as  dele- 
gates, we  want  to  raise  $500  to  help  out  that 
church." 

The  Woodruff  man's  back  was  turned  by  this 
time,  and  the  spokesman,  after  waiting  a 
moment,  said : 

"  Yes,  yes,  we  did  think  powerful  well  of  Mr. 
Woodruff  down  our  way,"  and  there  was  a  heap 
of  emphasis  on  the  "did."  Then  they  went 
out. 

Voted  the  Wrong  Ticket 
One  of  the  smoothest  political  tricks  ever 
played,  was  that  pulled  off  in  Talbot  County,  on 
the  eastern  shore  of  Maryland,  some  years  ago, 
when  about  two  hundred  negroes  voted  the 
wrong  ticket  without  knowing  it,  before  our  side 
found  out  that  anything  was  going  wrong.  The 
county  was  very  close  that  year,  and  the  Re- 
publicans had  to  count  upon  the  votes  of  the 
negroes  to  win.  Few  of  these  citizens  could 


212  TKHit  ant>  f)umot  ot  amcrican  politics 

read,  but  they  had  been  instructed  to  put  their 
cross  mark  on  the  Australian  ballot  in  front  of 
Massa  Lincoln's  nose.  They  had  shown  that 
they  could  at  least  do  this  much,  and  the  Re- 
publicans considered  everything  well  in  hand. 

But  the  Democrats  were  in  control  of  the 
County,  and  the  "  Jackson  and  Liberty  "  emblem 
had  first  place  on  the  ballot,  the  Democrats  also 
having  charge  of  all  the  election  printing. 
When  the  official  sample  ballots  were  published, 
not  one  Republican  in  the  county,  for  some 
strange  reason,  noticed  that  Lincoln's  head  in 
the  Republican  emblem  was  turned  to  the  left, 
instead  of  to  the  right,  as  had  always  been  the 
custom.  The  result  was,  naturally,  that  all  the 
illiterate  negroes  who  voted  "  in  front  of  Lin- 
coln's nose  "  marked  their  crosses  to  the  right  of 
"Jackson  and  Liberty,"  thereby  voting  the 
straight  Democratic  ticket.  About  n  A.  M., 
some  backwoods  Republicans  noticed  that  Lin- 
coln's face  was  turned  the  wrong  way,  and  re- 
ported to  the  managers.  Then  there  were  doings. 

It  was  thought  at  first  by  the  Republicans 
that  the  whole  Democratic  party  had  got  up 
the  scheme,  but  it  developed,  that  it  had  all 
been  arranged  by  one  man,  who  had  made  a 
change  in  the  woodcuts  which  were  sent  to  the 
official  printer. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

Rewards  of  Politics 

The  Judge's  Pull 

"  IN  those  halcyon  days  when  '  Chet '  Arthur 
ran  things  Republican,  in  New  York,  I  was  a 
district  leader,"  said  the  ex-Judge,  removing 
his  glasses  to  polish  them  so  that  he  would  the 
more  accurately  observe  the  effect  of  his  anec- 
dote. "  That  was  when  Arthur  was  Collector 
of  the  Port,  before  he  became  President,  and  we 
were  compelled  to  treat  him  with  a  greater 
deference  than  before.  It  was  the  days  before 
Civil  Service  Reform  had  arisen  to  vex  us  with 
its  restrictions  in  the  proper  dispensation  of 
patronage  in  building  up  a  party  to  advance 
proper  and  patriotic  principles." 

The  ex-Judge  mounted  his  glasses  and  beamed 
upon  us  as  he  thought  of  those  halcyon  days  of 
political  activity  and  leadership. 

"Well,"  he  went  on,  "in  my  district  there 

was   an   active,  industrious   fellow  named  Mc- 

Mahon — Marty,  one  of  those  fellows  to  whom 

you   only  need  to  say  that  such  and  such   a 

213 


214  TWlit  and  tumor  of  Bmerican  politics 

thing  must  be  done,  and  you  could  lie  back  and 
consider  it  done;  but  it  would  be  just  as  well 
not  to  inquire  how — rest  content  in  an  accom- 
plished fact.  Marty  had  one  detect,  however, 
which  deprived  him  of  ripe  excellence  and  com- 
fort. His  demand  for  places  for  his  family  went 
ahead  of  anything  I  ever  knew.  It  seemed  to 
me  that  he  spent  one  day  manufacturing  a  rela- 
tive, that  he  might  hunt  me  up  the  next  day  to 
demand  a  place  for  him.  But  then  he  wasn't 
so  different  from  the  rest  of  the  workers — only  a 
little  more  persistent  and  urgent.  Well,  one 
day  he  started  in  to  have  a  brother-in-law  of 
his  put  into  the  Custom-House.  I  had  been 
pretty  busy  securing  such  kind  of  places  for  my 
district,  and  didn't  feel  very  anxious  to  go  to 
Arthur,  and  told  Marty  so.  That  didn't  make 
any  difference  to  Marty.  He  was  at  my  house 
before  breakfast,  and  when  I  started  for  bed.  If 
I  opened  my  office  door  I  found  Marty  in  the 
corridor  patiently  waiting  to  prefer  that  request 
for  his  brother-in-law.  This  went  on  so  long 
that  in  sheer  desperation  I  went  to  Arthur. 

"'Well,  Judge,'  said  the  Collector,  'your 
district  has  its  quota  of  appointments  now — 
more  than  its  quota.1 

"'I  know,  Collector,'  I  exclaimed,  'but  I 
must  have  this  one.  If  this  thing  goes  on  an- 


and  tmmor  of  Bmertcan  politics  215 

other  week,  I  shall  be  a  dead  man.  I  can't  live 
through  it,  and  my  man  won't  take  nay.  Now 
I  am  quite  sure  that  you,  as  the  head  of  the  or- 
ganization, don't  want  to  lose  an  efficient  district 
leader. ' 

"Arthur  smiled,  but  the  smile  was  quickly 
succeeded  by  a  frown.  At  length  he  took  from 
his  desk  a  list  of  names  and,  after  looking  it 
over,  handed  it  to  me  saying : 

"  '  This  is  a  list  of  the  appointments  for  your 
district.  Look  it  over,  select  a  name  you  care 
least  for,  strike  it  off  and  I'll  appoint  your  man. 
It's  the  best  I  can  do.' 

"I  took  the  list  and  presently  struck  the 
name  of  a  man  of  whom  I  had  no  knowledge. 
I  didn't  even  recognize  it  as  belonging  to  any- 
body I  had  ever  heard  of,  and  I  struck  it  off. 
Marty's  brother-in-law  accordingly  was  ap- 
pointed. 

"A  week  later  I  met  Marty.  He  was  cold 
and  sullen — frowning,  indeed. 

"  '  What's  the  matter,  Marty?  '  I  asked.  '  I 
got  your  brother-in-law  appointed,  didn't  I?' 

"'You  did,  sor,'  he  replied,  'an'  by  the 
same  token  you  bounced  my  other  brother-in- 
law  to  do  it.  An'  all  it's  done  has  been  to  quiet 
one  sister  an'  put  another  about  me  ears.' 

"  I  flung  up  my  hands.     I  couldn't  explain." 


216  TCdit  anO  Dumor  of  Bmerican  politics 

The  Disappointed  Office-Seeker 

Back  in  '56  when  Buchanan  was  running  for 
the  Presidency,  he  had  an  intimate  friend  in  a 
Western  State  who  was  also  a  friend  of  mine. 
This  man  worked  early  and  late  for  Buchanan's 
cjuse,  and  really  did  as  much  as  any  one  else  to 
put  his  State  in  the  Buchanan  column  on  elec- 
tion day. 

My  friend,  whom  we  will  call  Smith,  had  a 
wife  who  was  an  invalid.  He  thought  that  he 
was  entitled  to  some  recognition — as  he  was — 
for  the  work  he  had  done,  and  he  applied  for  a 
consulate  on  the  coast  of  the  Mediterranean,  be- 
lieving that  the  sojourn  there  would  improve  his 
wife's  health. 

Months  went  by  and  he  heard  nothing  of  his 
application,  except  that  it  had  been  received  by 
the  President.  Then  came  the  blow.  He  was 
notified  that  he  had  been  made  Consul  at  some 
little  town  in  Iceland  !  Smith  sat  down  and 
wrote  a  letter,  which  I  saw  before  it  left,  so  I 
can  vouch  for  it.  The  letter  read  : 

"  To  One  James  Buchanan,  President  of  these 
United  States : 

"  Since  applying  to  you  some  months  ago  for 
a  consulate  on  the  balmy  shores  of  the  Mediter- 
ranean, my  wife,  who  was  ill,  has  gone  to 
heaven,  and  you  can  go  to ." 


